“Grail!” said Ann Veronica, and then: “Oh, yes—of course! Anything but a holy one, I’m afraid. She gave me an impression of a sort of patched quilt; little bits of patterned stuff coming up again and again. ’ There was a pause. One comes at last to the step from dreams to reality. The real tragedy—which he sensed and toward which he was always reaching—eluded all his verbal skill. “John, don’t!” she cried. Slash and cut as much as you please. See what you have made of me. The recollection of the forlorn and loveless years—stirred into consciousness by the unexpected confrontation—bent her as the high wind bends the water-reed.
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