Diable. “We settled long ago—we’re hard stuff. But with the morning, the glorious unstained morning the passion of living would stir even the blood of a clod. A rock gave way to deep water. All through the love music of the second act, until the hunting horns of Mark break in upon the dream, Ann Veronica’s consciousness was flooded with the perception of a man close beside her, preparing some new thing to say to her, preparing, perhaps, to touch her, stretching hungry invisible tentacles about her. What she admired in her man was his resolute defense of his opinions. It was one of the secret troubles of her mind, this grotesque twist her ideas would sometimes take, as though they rebelled and rioted.
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