THE ANGEL. Why not? It is an excellent drink.
JIMMY. (laughing) The maternal instinct! She is afraid you may make yourself—ridiculous.
THE ANGEL. Angels do not care for appearances. (He stands up magnificently in the chair, towering above them.) Besides . . . (refilling his glass) I feel that you do an injustice to this drink. Already it has made a new being of me. (He looks at Annabelle.) I feel an emotion that I have never known before. If I were in heaven, I should sing.
ANNABELLE. Oh! Won't you sing?
THE ANGEL. The fact is, I know nothing but hymns. And I'm tired of them. That was one reason why I left heaven. And this robe. . . . (He descends to the floor, viewing his garment with disapproval.) Have you an extra suit of clothes you could lend me?
JIMMY. (reflectively) Yes, I think I have some things that might fit. (The Angel waits.) Do you want them now? I'll look.
He goes into the bedroom. . . . The Angel looks at Annabelle until his gaze becomes insupportable, and she covers her eyes. Then he comes over to her side.
THE ANGEL. (gravely) I am very much afraid of you. (He takes her hands in his.)
ANNABELLE. (smiling) One would never guess it!
THE ANGEL. I am more afraid of you than I was of God. But even though I fear you, I must come close to you, and touch you. I feel a strange, new emotion like fire in my veins. This world has become beautiful to me because you are in it. I want to stay here so that I may be with you. . . .