talk to each other. We sha'n't hang up on any misunderstanding. Not us.
And we're going to fight that old world down there. That old world that
had shoved up that silly old hotel, and all the rest of it.... If we
don't live it will think we are afraid of it.... Die, indeed! We're
going to do work; we're going to unfold about each other; we're going to
have children."

"Girls!" cried Ann Veronica.

"Boys!" said Capes.

"Both!" said Ann Veronica. "Lots of 'em!"

Capes chuckled. "You delicate female!"

"Who cares," said Ann Veronica, "seeing it's you? Warm, soft little
wonders! Of course I want them."

Part 9

"All sorts of things we're going to do," said Capes; "all sorts of times
we're going to have. Sooner or later we'll certainly do something to
clean those prisons you told me about--limewash the underside of life.
You and I. We can love on a snow cornice, we can love over a pail of
whitewash. Love anywhere. Anywhere! Moonlight and music--pleasing, you
know, but quite unnecessary. We met dissecting dogfish.... Do you
remember your first day with me?... Do you indeed remember? The smell
of decay and cheap methylated spirit!... My dear! we've had so many
moments! I used to go over the times we'd had together, the things we'd
said--like a rosary of beads. But now it's beads by the cask--like the
hold of a West African trader. It feels like too much gold-dust clutched
in one's hand. One doesn't want to lose a grain. And one must--some of
it must slip through one's fingers."

"I don't care if it does," said Ann Veronica. "I don't care a rap for
remembering. I care for you. This moment couldn't be better until the
next moment comes. That's how it takes me. Why should WE hoard? We
aren't going out presently, like Japanese lanterns in a gale. It's the
poor dears who do, who know they will, know they can't keep it up, who
need to clutch at way-side flowers. And put 'em in little books for
remembrance. Flattened flowers aren't for the likes of us. Moments,
indeed! We like each other fresh and fresh. It isn't illusions--for us.
We two just love each other--the real, identical other--all the time."

"The real, identical other," said Capes, and took and bit the tip of her
little finger.

"There's no delusions, so far as I know," said Ann Veronica.

"I don't believe there is one. If there is, it's a mere
wrapping--there's better underneath. It's only as if I'd begun to know
you the day before yesterday or there-a