But in its stead—toward morning—there appeared another idea which appealed to him as sublime, appealed to the primitive conscience, to his artistic sense of the drama, to the poet and the novelist in him. "I have so much to learn. “No, Lucy, because Satan does not exist. ” With a little crash the pistol fell from her shaking fingers. And then there came for both of them at least a temporary awakening. Ann Veronica’s experiences of men had been among more stable types—Teddy, who was always absurd; her father, who was always authoritative and sentimental; Manning, who was always Manning.
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