The Princess Passes Volume 56 by Alice Muriel Williamson, Charles Norris Williamson (great book club books .txt) 📕

Two Absurdly Comfortable Armchair Arrangements In Front. The Chauffeur

Was Presently To Curl Like A Tendril Round A Little Crimson Toadstool

At Our Feet, And Jack Took The Tonneau In Lonely State. This Was, No

Doubt, An Act Of Fine Self-Abnegation On His Part, Nevertheless I

Could Have Envied Him His Safe Retirement, From My Place Of Honour,

With No Noble Horses In Front To Save Molly And Me From Swift

Destruction.

Physically, We Were Very Snug, However. The Luggage Was Fitted Into

Spaces Especially Made For It; Long Baskets On The Mudguards At The

Side Were Stowed With Maps And Guide-Books For The Tour, And (As Molly

Remarked In The Language Of Her Childhood) A "Few Nice Little 'Eaties'

To Make Us Independent On The Way."

There Was Also A Sort Of Glorified Tea Basket, Containing, Molly Said,

A Chafing-Dish, Without Which No Self-Respecting American Woman Ever

Travelled, And By Whose Aid Wonderful Dishes Could Be Turned Out At

Five Minutes' Notice In A Shipwreck, On A Desert Island, Or While A

Tyre Was Being Mended.

As I Mentally Finished My Last Will And Testament, Gotteland Gave A

Short Twist To The Dragon's Tail, Which Happened To Be In Front.

Instantly A Heart Began To Throb, Throb. The Chauffeur Sprang To His

Toadstool. Molly Moved A Lever Which Said "R-R-R-Tch," Pressed One Of

Her Small But Determined American Feet On Something, And The Car Gave

A Kind Of A Smooth, Gliding Leap Forward, As If Sent Spinning From An

Unseen Giant's Hand.

Though It Was But Just After Nine, The Early Omnibus Had Gathered Its

Tribute Of Toiling Or Shopping Worms, And Was Too Prevalent In Park

Lane For My Peace Of Mind. There Were Also Enormous Drays, Which

Looked, As Our Frail Bark Passed Under Their Bows, Like Huge Atlantic

Liners. The Hansoms Were Fierce Black Sharks Skimming Viciously Round

Us, And There Were Other Monsters Whose Forms I Had No Time To

Analyse: But Into The Midst Of This Seething Ocean Molly Pitilessly

Hurled Us. How We Slipped Into Spaces Half Our Own Width And Came Out

Scatheless, Providence Alone Knew, But It Seemed That Kindly Fate Must

Soon Tire Of Sparing Us, We Tempted It So Often.

"Here's A Smash!" I Said To Myself Grimly, At The Corner Of Hamilton

Place, And It Flashed Through My Brain, With A Mixture Of

Self-Contempt And Pity, That My Last Thought Before The End Would Be

One Of Sordid Satisfaction Because A Fortnight Ago I Had Reluctantly

Paid An Accident Assurance Premium.

My Fingers Yearned With Magnetic Attraction Toward The Arms Of The

Seat, But With All That Was Manly In Me I Resisted. I Wreathed My Face

With A Smile Which, Though Stiff As A Plaster Mask, Was A Useful

Screen; And As South African Tan Is Warranted Not To Wear Off During A

Lifetime, I Could Feel As Pale As I Pleased Without Visible Disgrace.

"How Do You Like It?" Asked Molly.

"Glorious," I Breezily Returned.

"Ah, I _Thought_ You Would Enjoy It, When--As They Say Of Babies--You

'Began To Take Notice.' The Other Night, Of Course, You Were A Little

Absent-Minded. Besides, It Was Dark, And The Streets Were Dull And

Empty. A Motor _Is_ Just As Nice As A Horse, Isn't It? Do Say So, If

Only To Please Me."

Now I Knew Why The Victims Of The Inquisition Told Any Lie Which

Happened To Come Handy. I Said That It Was Marvellous How Soon The

Thing Got Hold Of One; And Molly's Mushroom Reared Itself Proudly.

"That Is Because You Are So Brave," Said The Poor, Deceived Girl. "Of

Course It's Having Been A Soldier, And All That. People Who've Been In

Battle Wouldn't Think Anything Of A First Motor Experience ("Oh,

Wouldn't They?" I Inwardly Chortled). But, Do You Know, Lord Lane,

I've Actually Seen Men Who Were Quite Brave In Other Ways, Feel A

Little _Queer_ The First Time They Drove In An Automobile Through

Traffic, Or Even In Quiet Country Roads? I Don't Suppose You Can

Understand It."

"I Couldn't," I Replied Valiantly, "Were Not Imagination The First

Ingredient Of Sympathy. But--Er--Don't You Think That Omnibus In Front

Is Rather Large--Near, I Mean? You Mustn't Exert Yourself To Talk, You

Know, For My Sake, If You Need To Give Your Whole Attention To

Driving."

"I Like To Talk. It's No Exertion At All," Said Molly, And I Fancy I

Responded With Some Base Flattery, Though By This Time That Smile Of

Mine Was So Hard You Could Have Knocked It Off With A Hammer.

"The First Day I Went Through Traffic," She Continued, "My Toes Had

The Funniest Sensation, As If They Were Turning Up In My Shoes. One

Seemed To Come So Awfully _Near_ Everything, Without Any Horses In

Front."

At This Very Moment My Own Toes Happened To Feel As If They Were

Pasted Back On My Insteps; Yet I Laughed Heartily At The Suggestion,

And To My Critical Ear There Was Only A Slight Hollowness In The Ring,

Although Before Us Now Loomed A Huge Railway Van. It Was Loaded With

Iron Bars, Their Rusty Ends Hanging Far Out And Sagging Towards The

Roadway, Enough To Frighten The Gentlest Automobile. Ours Seemed Far

From Gentle, And Besides, We Could Not Possibly Stop In Time To Avoid

Impalement On The Iron Spikes. Molly And I, If Not Jack And The

Chauffeur, Must Surely Die A Peculiarly Unpleasant And Unnecessary

Death, In The Morning Of Our Lives, Just As Other More Fortunate

People Were Starting Out, Safe And Happy In Exquisitely Beautiful

Omnibuses, To Begin Their Day's Pleasure. And Molly Believed, Because

I Had Been In A Few Battles, With Nothing Worse Than A Bee-Like

Buzzing Of Some Innocent Bullets In My Ears, That I Should Be Callous

In A Motor Car.

However, The Bravest Soldiers Are Those Who Feel Fear, And Fight

Despite It. I Maintain That I Deserved A Victoria Cross For The Grim

Smile Which Did Not Leave My Lips As I Braced Myself For The

Death-Dealing Blow. But, As In A Dream One Finds Without Surprise That

The Precipice, Over Which One Is Hanging By An Eyebrow, Obligingly

Transforms Itself Into A Bank Of Violets, So Did The Dragon Which Had

Been Whirling Us To Destruction Magically Change Into A Swan-Like

Creature Skimming Just Out Of Harm's Way.

I Now Reflected, With A Vague Sense Of Self-Disgust, That, Instead Of

Being Glad To Leave The World Which Had Denied Me Helen, I Had Felt

Distinctly Annoyed At The Necessity, Had Not Given A Thought To My

Lost Love, And Had Been Thankful For The Mere Gift Of Life Without

Her.

"I'm So Glad You Don't Think I'm Reckless," Said Molly, As Quietly As

Though We Had Not Passed Through A Crisis; And Indeed To This Day I Do

Not Believe She Would Admit That We Had.

"I'm Really Very Careful; Jack Says I Am. He Takes Tremendous Risks

Sometimes, Or At Least It Seems So When You're Not Driving. You'll See

The Difference When _He's_ In Front."

I Refrained From Comment, But I Had Never Valued Jack's Friendship

Less, And I Was In The Act Of Concocting A Telegram From Locker Which

Might Recall Me To London, When From The Speed Of The Scotch Express

We Slowed Down To A Pace Which Would Have Been Mean Even For A Donkey.

We Continued This Rate Of Progression For A Peaceful But All Too Brief

Interval; Then In The Line Of Traffic Opened A Narrow Canal Which I

Hoped Might Escape Molly's Eye. But There Was No Such Luck. She Saw;

We Leaped Into It, Raced Down It, And Before I Could Have Said

"Knife," Or Any Other Equally Irrelevant Word Of One Syllable, We Had

Left Everything Else Behind.

I Expected To Be (To Put It Mildly) As Uncomfortable As I Had Been

Before My Short Respite, Yet Strange To Say, This Was Not The Case. I

Did Not Know What Was The Matter With Me, But Suddenly I Seemed To Be

Enjoying Myself. The Tension Of Muscles Relaxed, As If A String Which

Had Held Them Tight--Like The Limbs Of A Jumping Jack--Had Been Let

Go. I Leaned Back Against The Crimson Cushions Of My Seat With A New

And Singular Sense Of Well-Being. Once, As A Volunteer In South

Africa, I Had Felt The Same When, After Having A Splinter Of Bone

Taken Out, Under Chloroform, I Had Waked Up To Be Told It Was All

Over. This Wasn't Over, But Somehow, I Didn't Want It To Be.

We Took Putney Bridge At A Gulp, And Swallowed The Long Hill To

Wimbledon Common In The Fashion Of A Hungry Anaconda; But Before We

Arrived At This Stage A Thing Happened Which Unexpectedly Raised My

Opinion Of Motor Cars. It Was In The Fullham Road That We Glided Close

Behind A Hansom Bowling Along At A Rattling Pace. Traffic On Our Right

Prevented Us From Passing, And Molly Had Just Remarked How Vexing It

Was To Be Kept Back By A Mere Hansom, When Plunk! Down Went The Little

Nag On His Nose. It Was One Of Those Tumbles In Which The Horse

Collapses In A Limp Heap Without Any Sliding, Though He Had Been Going

Fast Downhill, And Of Course The Hansom Stopped Dead. The Whole Scene

Was As Quick As The Flashing Of A Biograph. The Driver Struggled To

Keep His Seat, Clawing At The Shiny Roof Of The Cab; His Fare, In A

Silk Hat And Pathetic Frock Coat, Shot From The Vehicle Like A Flying

Mercury, And This Time It Seemed That Nothing Could Keep Us From

Telescoping The Vehicle Thus Suddenly Arrested A Few Feet Ahead.

But I Reckoned Without Molly. Her Little Gloved Hand, And The

High-Heeled American Toys She Had For Feet, Moved Like Lightning.

Without Any Violent Wrench, The Car Stopped Apparently In Less Than

Its Own Length, And As, Even Thus, We Were Too Close Upon The Cab,

Molly Threw A Quick Glance Behind, Then Bade Mercédès Glide Gently

Backward.

With The Fall Of The Horse, Jack Rose In The Tonneau, With The

Instinct Of Protection Over Molly. But He Said Not A Word Till She Had

Guided The Car To Safety, When He Gave Her A Little Congratulatory Pat

On The Shoulder. "Good Girl; That Was Perfect. Couldn't Have Been

Better," He Murmured. We Waited Until We Had Seen That