"Grail!" said Ann Veronica, and then: "Oh, yes—of course! Anything but a holy one, I'm afraid."
"Altogether holy, Ann Veronica. Ah! but you can't imagine what you are to me and what you mean to me! I suppose there is something mystical and wonderful about all women."
"There is something mystical and wonderful about all human beings. I don't see that men need bank it with the women."
"A man does," said Manning—"a true man, anyhow. And for me there is only one treasure-house. By Jove! When I think of it I want to leap and shout!"
"It would astonish that man with the barrow."
"It astonishes me that I don't," said Manning, in a tone of intense self-enjoyment.
"I think," began Ann Veronica, "that you don't realize—"
He disregarded her entirely. He waved an arm and spoke with a peculiar resonance. "I feel like a giant! I believe now I shall do great things. Gods! what it must be to pour out strong, splendid verse—mighty lines! mighty lines! If I do, Ann Veronica, it will be you. It will be altogether you. I will dedicate my books to you. I will lay them all at your feet."
He beamed upon her.
"I don't think you realize," Ann Veronica began again, "that I am rather a defective human being."
"I don't want to," said Manning. "They say there are spots on the sun. Not for me. It warms me, and lights me, and fills my world with flowers. Why should I peep at it through smoked glass to see things that don't affect me?" He smiled his delight at his companion.
