None but Lucifer by H. L. Gold & L. Sprague De Camp

Author:H. L. Gold & L. Sprague De Camp [Gold, H. L. & Camp, L. Sprague de]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fantasy, Horror
ISBN: 9780895561282
Publisher: Gateways Books & Tapes
Published: 1939-09-19T04:00:00+00:00

For several days he avoided the office. They got up late, dressed and ate quickly, and left the apartment. He could have used his cars, or the yacht, or his recently acquired airplane, to escape the dread Johnson’s desk aroused in him. But swift, aimless travel for its own sake had ceased to be entertaining.

He began to prefer walking. He liked the Haroun-al-Raschid feeling that mixing with his subjects, unbeknownst to them, gave him. But — Gloria was not an athletic girl. She preferred high heels to walking shoes, and after ten blocks complained until he called a taxi. Nor could he leave her and walk alone. They’d never be happy apart.

Gloria did let him take her to a serious play. Considering that he had promised not to try to change her, he thought he had done pretty well. It was a great change from movies, musicals and farces, and he enjoyed it. But when they left, Gloria was sullen.

“What’s the trouble?” he asked.

She thrust out her chin. “I don’t know much about plays, but —”

“but you know what you like,” he finished for her.

“Yes?”

He lit a cigarette and asked: “What didn’t you like about it?”

“It don’t like that deep stuff. What have I got to do with the Irish revolution? I like plays —”

“— that remind you of us. Isn’t that right?”

She looked hurt. “You never let me finish —”

He wanted to tell her that she didn’t have to, but, no matter how much she annoyed him at times, his love for her kept his tongue in cheek. He said: “Don’t you ever get tired of that subject? It isn’t inexhaustible.”

“It is to me. Love —”

“I know. Love is a woman’s whole life.” He put his hands on her shoulders. “I don’t want to hurt you, darling, but I honestly don’t think we’re important enough to occupy your whole mind for the length of time you’re going to live.”

She pressed her fist against her face to keep from crying in the street. “I think we are, Billie-willie.”

“Oh, please!” he cried, rebelling for the first time. “I can’t stand that idiotic name! Can’t you call me Bill or Will or William?”

The fist refused to function as a dam any longer. She dived into the car and curled up in a corner, crying furiously. All the way home he had to protest that his nerves were touchy and that he really loved the nickname, and her, and the inexhaustible subject of themselves.

He wished Johnson would hurry his reply to the letter. Johnson would know how to fix things. It wouldn’t be so bad if he could only have some time to himself. Like most people, Gloria was good enough company when taken in reasonably small doses. But twenty-four hours a day, every day, would wear anybody’s company thin. If only Johnson would deliver him from her damned bridge parties, her shopping excursions, and the afternoon teas she was going in for! He didn’t object to them, for her. But, hell, she might show a little consideration for him.

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