Mike was showing his territorial instincts, brought out by the fact that he was drunk. He wished he had the time to solve this riddle, for it was a riddle, and four-square besides. . 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. “I’m sorry, ma’am, to seem the cause of any disturbance, but this,” he pointed to Anna, “is my wife. Which is C?” Ann Veronica, with a curious sinking of the heart, regarded the black cavities of the vans.
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