” “Your priestess,” whispered Ann Veronica, softly. They had their little dreams about her. Gray and tranquil world! Amazing, passionless world! A world in which days without meaning, days in which “we don’t want things to happen” followed days without meaning—until the last thing happened, the ultimate, unavoidable, coarse, “disagreeable. “Then turn round and go back there,” she directed. She had to wait some minutes in an outer office, wherein three young men of spirited costume and appearance regarded her with ill-concealed curiosity and admiration. ‘Will you stop hedging? I’m hanged if I go on with this ridiculous cat and mouse game. Manning might go on now idealizing her as much as he liked.
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