`` And there are magnificent stories in it -- yes , Felicity , MAGNIFICENT . If the world does n't come to an end I 'll tell you the story of Ruth next Sunday -- or look here ! I 'll tell it anyhow . That 's a promise . Wherever we are next Sunday I 'll tell you about Ruth . '' `` Why , you would n't tell stories in heaven , '' said Cecily , in a very timid voice . `` Why not ? '' said the Story Girl , with a flash of her eyes . `` Indeed I shall . I 'll tell stories as long as I 've a tongue to talk with , or any one to listen . '' Ay , doubtless . That dauntless spirit would soar triumphantly above the wreck of matter and the crash of worlds , taking with it all its own wild sweetness and daring . Even the young-eyed cherubim , choiring on meadows of asphodel , might cease their harping for a time to listen to a tale of the vanished earth , told by that golden tongue . Some vague thought of this was in our minds as we looked at her ; and somehow it comforted us . Not even the Judgment was so greatly to be feared if after it we were the SAME , our own precious little identities unchanged . `` It must be getting handy two , '' said Cecily . `` It seems as if we 'd been waiting here for ever so much longer than an hour . '' Conversation languished . We watched and waited nervously . The moments dragged by , each seeming an hour .
Would two o'clock never XXXXX and end the suspense ?
's choiring come dragged seeming seems talk tell waiting watched