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The Princess Passes by Alice Muriel Williamson and Charles Norris Williamson

A >> Alice Muriel Williamson and Charles Norris Williamson >> The Princess Passes

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"It cut off all my arms and legs, and my head, and left me only a
trunk," I murmured.

"I couldn't think what else to do; indeed, I could hardly think at
all. But I knew Molly and Jack were going to Chambery to spend a day,
and I thought I might catch them there, if I hurried. You see, Molly
and I wrote to each other sometimes, though I never said a word about
you. I didn't dream you'd knew them, until one day you announced
things you'd said to Molly in a letter, which--which--well, things
which would need a lot of explanation, too difficult for black and
white."

"By Jove!" I exclaimed. "Now I know where I'd seen your handwriting
before. It was in a letter which Molly dropped almost on my head, from
a balcony at Martigny, and there was a photograph----"

"Oh, you didn't see it?"

"That's what Molly asked. I satisfied her that I hadn't."

"Suppose you _had_--before you met me! But never mind. I did find them
at Chambery. They'd just arrived, and I told Molly everything."

"What did she say?"

"Oh, she just lent me some of her clothes, and said they'd take me
with them in the automobile, out of danger's way until we could decide
on a plan. I bought the thing you call a 'mushroom' in a shop, and we
were starting off next morning when--you came along. Well----"

"Well?"

"Molly and Jack were in a very awkward position: for I had said to
Molly that I felt I could never face you again--_never_, anyhow, as
the Boy, and that _he_ had gone out of your life irrevocably. There I
sat in the motor car, and there were you in the street. You can't
imagine how I felt. It would have been horrid for them--your best
friends--to leave you stranded, and--_I_ didn't want that either. I
couldn't help feeling there'd be a tremendous fascination in being so
near you, with my face hidden, you not knowing, if only the strain of
it needn't last too long; and Molly just cut the Gordian knot of the
scrape, as she always does. She assured me that being in the same car
need commit me to _no_ decision as to what I would do in the end.
But--you remember how she drew you out, about your feeling for the
Boy, how you missed him, and how you were going all the way down to
Monte Carlo on the bare chance of his being there? Well, she meant me
to hear every word, and I did. After that--after that--I--_couldn't_
give you up. I don't believe I could, anyway, when I'd straightened
things out in my mind. I'd told you that you would never see the Boy
again, and you never will; but Molly said that was no reason why you
shouldn't see the Boy's sister. I wrote a note from him to you, for
myself to bring to-night, and I thought--I hoped--you might perhaps
believe----"

"You couldn't have hoped it," I broke in. "Say that you came to give
me back my Little Pal, whom you had stolen from me."

"It may be. I don't know, myself. I couldn't foresee what would
happen. As I heard you say, about motoring down steep hills, I just
hurled myself into space, and trusted to Providence."

"Now I understand all that was mysterious in myself," I said. "My
heart, not being such a fool as my head, was trying continually to
telegraph the truth about the Little Pal to my brain, which couldn't
get the message right, as there was far too much electricity flying
about in the atmosphere. Now I know why I loved the Boy so dearly,
because he was you; because he was that Other Half which every man is
always unconsciously looking for, round the world, and hardly ever
finds."

"Oh, Man, do you really care--like that? Do you love me--love 'for
sure' this time?"

"Sure for this time, and for Eternity. There never really was, there
never will be, any other woman in my life except you: for you are my
Life and my World."

"You don't hate me for my masquerade?"

"Hate you! I'll prove to you whether I----"

"Why does your face look suddenly different, Man? Why do you stop?"

"Because--I've remembered something that I'd forgotten."

"What?"

"Your horrible money."

"Don't you think I knew you'd forgotten? Oh, Man, the money would be
horrible indeed, if you should let it come between us, but you won't,
will you? We belong to each other; your following me here proves it
beyond doubt. I've known for weeks that I never truly cared for anyone
else, for I love you, and can't do without you."

"Then there's nothing on earth that shall come between us. Money or
no money, what does it matter, after all? Will you finish the journey
of Life with me, my Little Pal--my Love?"

The star-eyes answered. And at that moment Molly and Jack came in.


[Illustration]




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President Obama teams up with one of Marvel's greatest heroes, reports Alison Flood
Articles published by guardian.co.uk Books

Murder One closing so did we commit this crime?

Barack Obama is teaming up with Spider-Man in a new comic from Marvel, which will see the future president exchanging a fist-bump with Peter Parker's alter ego.

The five-page story takes place in Washington DC on inauguration day, when one of Spidey's oldest enemies, the Chameleon, attempts to stop Obama's swearing-in ceremony. Fortunately, Peter Parker is covering the event as a photographer, and jumps in to save the day.

"Ya hear that, Chameleon? The president-elect here just appointed me ... secretary of shuttin' you up," Spider-Man says as he thwacks the Chameleon in the face. "I hope this doesn't ruin the inauguration for you," he tells Obama, as the Chameleon is led away by security officials. "Honestly, I'm more upset by the Chameleon's shockingly deficient understanding of the electoral process," Obama replies.

Spidey then cedes the limelight to Obama. "This is your day, after all, and I know it wouldn't look good to be seen palling around with me," he says, in a nod to Sarah Palin's comment that the then presidential candidate had been "palling around with terrorists".

The story, written by Zeb Wells and illustrated by Todd Nauck and Frank D'Armata, will appear as a bonus feature in Amazing Spider-Man 583, which goes on sale on 14 January.

"When we heard that president-elect Obama is a collector of Spider-Man comics, we knew that these two historic figures had to meet in our comics' Marvel Universe," said Marvel's editor-in-chief Joe Quesada. "A Spider-Man fan moving into the Oval Office is an event that must be commemorated in the pages of Amazing Spider-Man."

In October, graphic novel biographies of Obama and his then rival John McCain were published by IDW. April will see Michelle Obama appearing in the Female Force comic book series.

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Poetry Workshop creature features

For many years my local corner shop displayed a large sign in its window telling local residents to "use us or lose us!" It always looked a rather toothless threat to me. After all, if I didn't use them, what difference would it make to me if they weren't there? And surely a corner shop, one that had been there for years, would have enough customers to survive without recourse to such apocalyptic warning? But it didn't and was soon converted into flats.

This community shop was destroyed not so much by the pressures of the supermarkets or people's commuting patterns, but simply by customer apathy. It's something to think about as crime writers and readers across the world mourn the imminent passing of Maxim Jakubowski's celebrated Charing Cross Road bookshop in London, Murder One.

Apathy is a strange word to connect to a bookstore that thrives on passion. It's noticeable when you walk through the door, when you speak to the friendly, knowledgeable staff, when you look at the shelves and see the vast range of titles on offer. This isn't your regular kind of bookstore: the first time I visited spent a whole lunch break looking up and down, from floor to ceiling from table to table; it was an hour that changed my perception of both crime writing and of bookselling.

Murder One was – and for a few weeks will remain – a shop that took crime seriously. Not in the sense that it intellectualised it, or made unsubstantiated claims for its importance, but in the way that it treated crime writing with the respect it was due. With a genre that has so many off-shoots, branches and sub-genres, it took a shop of Murder One's calibre to show just how diverse, interesting and mentally stimulating crime could be – far more than the guilty pleasure I had, until then, considered it.

Thanks to judicious recommendations, enticing table displays and hours of foraging among the stacks, I discovered writers that I would never have picked up, let alone read. You could always get the latest blockbuster, but delve a little deeper and you'd find books that were not stocked anywhere else, novels that, like the perfect crime, were hidden from public view. The Martin Beck novels by Sjöwall & Wahlöö – probably my favourite sequence of novels in any genre – were introduced to me via Murder One, as were Kem Nunn, Sue Grafton, and Henning Mankell. It's also the staff of Murder One who piqued my interest in the inimitable Fred Vargas, and I can't thank them enough for the introduction.

Inclusive and without snobbery, Murder One amply demonstrated that the best bookshops are places not just of commerce, but of community; places that make feel you belong. It's the kind of store that bibliophiles dream about: well-stocked, well-staffed and shabby enough to lose days browsing within. It's just unfortunate that such shops don't have enough paying customers to keep them afloat, or that these customers visit all too infrequently – something of which I'm certainly guilty.

These kinds of shops are facing a long, bloody battle – and one which, without significant reinforcements, they are likely to lose. As we hear of the travesty of another brilliant independent going down, we'll mourn the loss, wring our hands and damn Amazon and the supermarkets and Waterstone's. Yet perhaps the most important detail we'll probably keep under wraps: the last time we actually spent any money there.

Murder One closing its doors for the final time is undoubtedly a .38 shell for independent bookshops, but whether it's body blow or a warning shot all depends upon us, the consumers. No one, no matter how iconic or established, can exist on fond memories alone: just ask Woolworths. Use these shops now, because it doesn't take a master sleuth to deduce what will happen if we don't.

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