Manchurian Books

"In all Ireland and America there is none like you, Yolara," he
answered. "And take that any way you please," he muttered in English.
She took it, it was evident, as it most pleased her.
"Do you have goddesses?" she asked.
"Every woman in Ireland and America, is a goddess"; thus Larry.
"Now that I do not believe." There was both anger and mockery in her
eyes. "I know women, Larree--and if that were so there would be no
peace for men."
"There isn't!" replied he. The anger died out and she laughed,
sweetly, understandingly.
"And which goddess do you worship, Larree?"
"You!" said Larry O'Keefe boldly.
"Larry! Larry!" I whispered. "Be careful. It's high explosive."
But the priestess was laughing--little trills of sweet bell notes; and
pleasure was in each note.
"You are indeed bold, Larree," she said, "to offer me your worship.
Yet am I pleased by your boldness. Still--Lugur is strong; and you are
not of those who--what did you say--have tried. And your wings are
not here--Larree!"
Again her laughter rang out.


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