The Place of the Lion

Read The Place of the Lion for Free Online

Book: Read The Place of the Lion for Free Online
Authors: Charles Williams
indeed,” she thought. “The shrieking imbecile! Are they never going to get her away?”
    â€œYes, O yes!” Miss Wilmot moaned. “I daren’t stop. I—no, no, I daren’t stop.”
    â€œCome then,” Mr. Foster said. “This way; the door’s just here by you. But you’re not afraid of it, are you?”
    â€œYes … no … yes, I am, I am,” Dora moaned again. “It’s too—O let’s get away.”
    Mrs. Rockbotham released the arm she held. Mr. Foster, one hand still holding Miss Wilmot’s, felt with his other for the door-handle. Damaris was watching them, as were all the rest—without her indignation—when suddenly everyone sprang into movement. There was a rush for the door; screams, not Miss Wilmot’s, sounded. Damaris herself, startled and galvanized, moved hastily forward, colliding with a heavy mass in flight which turned out to be Mrs. Roche Jacquelin. For from behind her, away towards those open windows, soft but distinct, there had come, or seemed to come, the sound of a gentle and prolonged hiss. Terror caught them all; following Mr. Foster and his charge, they squeezed and thrust themselves through the door. Only Damaris, after that first instinctive movement, restrained herself; only Mrs. Rockbotham, a little conscious of dignity still, allowed herself to be last. After the panic those two went, drawn by it but resisting its infection. The room lay empty and still in the electric light, unless indeed there passed across it then a dim form, which, heavy, long, and coiling, issued slowly through the open window into a silent world where for that moment nothing but the remote thunder was heard.

Chapter Three
    THE COMING OF THE BUTTERFLIES
    Anthony shook his head reproachfully at Damarisover the coffee cups.
    â€œYou know,” he said, “if I were a sub-editor on anything but a distinguished literary paper, I should say you were playing with me—playing fast and loose.”
    â€œDon’t be absurd, Anthony,” Damaris answered.
    â€œI come and I go,” Anthony went on, “and you will and you won’t. And——”
    â€œBut I’ve told you what I will,” Damaris said. “I’m not sure whether you and I could make a success of marriage. And anyhow I won’t think about anything of the kind till I’ve got my degree. Of course, if you think more of yourself than of me——”
    â€œWell, naturally I do,” Anthony interrupted. “Who doesn’t? Am I a saint or an Alexandrian gnostic? Don’t let’s ask rhetorical questions, darling.”
    â€œI’m not doing anything of the kind,” Damaris said, coldly. “But you must be willing to wait a little while. I’m not sure of myself.”
    â€œIt’s all you are sure of—besides Abelard,” Anthony said. “And with you, that covers everything else.”
    â€œI think you’re rather unkind,” Damaris answered. “We both like each other——”
    â€œDearest, I don’t like you a bit,” Anthony interrupted again. “I think you’re a very detestable, selfish pig and prig. But I’m often wildly in love with you, and so I see you’re not. But I’m sure your only chance of salvation is to marry me.”
    â€œReally, Anthony!” Damans got up from the table. “Chance of salvation, indeed! And from what, I should like to know?”
    â€œNobody else,” Anthony went on, “sees you as you are. Nobody else will give you such a difficult and unpleasant time as I do. You’ll never be comfortable, but you may be glorious. You’d better think over it.”
    Damaris said nothing. Anthony, it was clear, was in one of his difficult fits; and if it hadn’t been for The Two Camps ——. There was a short silence, then he too stood up.
    â€œWell,” he said, “you’ve not been

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