her

For the giant lunatic started capering around the meadow, leaping and doing cartwheels, and howling like a banshee.
“He’s finally flipped,” I said.
Gwendolyn shook her head. “No—at least, no more than usual. He’s just very happy and excited.”
Sure enough, after a couple of minutes of these bizarre acro­batics, Wolfgang calmed down and shambled back over to where we were standing. Tears of joy were streaming down his cheeks.
“Best news I’ve heard in years!” he boomed. “Marvelous! ­Absolutely marvelous! I’d be ecstatic even if I’d had the vision in one of my hallucinations—but coming from Hildegard!” He grinned, drooling. “Her visions are infallible, you know.”
“I don’t suppose you’d explain what it means?” asked Gwendolyn.
Wolfgang looked about, like a little boy trying to keep a secret.
“Well, I suppose I could give you a hint. It means the world’s going to end. Way ahead of my schedule, it looks like.”
Gwendolyn visibly restrained her temper. “This is good news?”
Wolfgang was shocked. “Well, of course it’s good news!” Then he clapped his head with his hand. “Oh, of course! You think—no! no! Dear Gwendolyn! You have such a grim, apocalyptic view of things! Twilight of the gods, all that rot. No, dear, the world’s going to end like—like, how shall I put it?—yes! Like all the low things in life end! That’s it! Like all the things that crawl, and lie in the mud, and stink, and wriggle.”
He stooped, bringing his face down. “Now do you see?”
“No, I don’t!” exclaimed Gwendolyn.
Wolfgang straightened, sighed. “We look at things so differently, dear. From different angles, you might say.”
He reached out and stroked her