She knew the story only imperfectly, and followed it now with a passionate and deepening interest. To him she had always appeared as a mere pleasure-loving parasite—something quite insignificant. He worked afternoons, when everybody else went to sleep; he worked at night under a heat-giving light, with insects buzzing and dropping about, with a blue haze of tobacco smoke that tried to get out and could not. The curtain came festooning slowly down, the music ceased, the lights in the auditorium glowed out, and Ann Veronica woke out of her confused dream of involuntary and commanding love in a glory of sound and colors to discover that Ramage was sitting close beside her with one hand resting lightly on her waist. Capes, do you think. Save us!" he cried, as his glance accidentally alighted on the drawing, which Winifred had dropped in her agitation.
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