SEARCH
0-9 A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z
Prev | Current Page 127 | Next

England, George Allan, 1877-1936

"The Flying Legion"


I trust it is not causing you any severe pain?"
"Pray don't waste any time or thought on any injury of mine, sir!" the
woman returned.
"Very well, madam! Resume your disguise!"
She tried to sweep up her magnificent hair and secure it upon her
head. But with only one hand available this proved impossible. They
both saw there was no way for her to put on the toupee again.
She smiled oddly, with a half-whimsical, wholly feminine bit of
malice. Her eyes seemed dancing.
"I'm afraid I can't obey you, sir," she proffered. "You can see for
yourself, it can't be done."
A dull, angry flush crept over the Master's rather pale face, and lost
itself in the roots of his thick, black hair. Perfectly well he saw
that he was being cornered in an untenable position of half-command,
half-intimacy. Without apparently exercising any wiles, this woman was
none the less involving him in bonds like those the Lilliputians threw
round sleeping Gulliver.
Anger welled up in his proud heart that anyone--much less a
woman--should thus lower his dignity. But still his manhood dictated
courtesy. He came a few steps nearer, and said:
"I must admit this seems rather an embarrassing situation.


Pages:
115 116 117 118 119 120 121 122 123 124 125 126 127 128 129 130 131 132 133 134 135 136 137 138 139