."

She was thinking of the Burningtons, the Drakes, of other
Sennier-worshippers.

"I believe it is partly because of the words you set," she added. "Great
words, of course. But where can they be sung? Not everywhere. And people
are so strange about the Bible."

"Strange about the Bible!"

"English people, and even Americans, at any rate. There is a sort of
queer, absurd tradition. One begins to think of oratorio."

She paused. Claude said nothing. He was feeling hot all over.

"I can't help wishing, for your own sake, that you wouldn't always go to
the Bible for your inspiration."

"I daresay it is very absurd of me."

"Claudie, you could never be absurd."

"Anybody can be absurd."

"I could never think you absurd. But I suppose everyone can make a
mistake. It seems to me as if there are a lot of channels, some short,
ending abruptly, some long, going almost to the center of things. And
genius is like a liquid poured into them. I only want you to pour yours
into a long channel. Is it very stupid, or perverse, of me?"

As she said the last words she felt deeply conscious of her feminine
intelligence, of that delicate ingenuity peculiar to women, unattainable
by man.

"No, Charmian, of course not. So you think I've been pouring into a very
short channel?"

"Don't you?"

"I'm afraid I've never thought about it."

"I know. It wants another to do that, I think."

"Very likely."

"You care for strange things. One can see that by your choice of words.
But there are strange and wonderful words not in the Bible. The other
day I was looking into Rossetti's poems. I read _Staff and Scrip_ again
and _Sister Helen_. There are marvellous passages in both of those. I
wish sometimes you'd let me come in here, when you're done working, and
make tea for you, and just read aloud to you anything interesting I come
across."

That was the beginning of a new connection between husband and wife, the
beginning also of a new epoch in Claude's life as a composer.

When they left the studio that night he had agreed to Charmian's
proposal that she should spend some of her spare time in looking out
words that might be suitable for a musical setting, "in your peculiar
vein," as she said. By doing this he had abandoned his complete liberty
as a creator. So at least he felt. Yet he also felt unable to refuse his
wife's request. To do so, after all her beneficent energies employed on
his behalf, would be churlish. He might ha