Read Online Man On The Run by Charles Williams - Free Book Online Page B

According to the morning papers, they don’t believe now you ever left town at all.”
    “What does A.H. stand for?”
    “Amelia Holly Patton. It’s my real name, but nobody knows it except for a few close friends, so it’s as good as having an unlisted number.”
    “That was a smart trick,” I said.
    “It was the only way I could think of to tell you without telling him. I was pretty sure if you’d tried to find me in the book you’d catch on.”
    I caught her shoulders and pulled her down toward me.
    “Just a minute, you Irish hedge-hog,” she said. “The way you scratched me with that beard—”
    “Where?” I asked.
    There was cynical amusement in the gray eyes just above mine. “You know damned well where. After you collapsed with your head on my breast, I went on holding you for an hour before you quit shaking.”
    “That was a wonderful system you had for thawing me out.”
    “Not exactly original,” she said. “But effective. However, you’re not cold now.” “That’s what I mean,” I said.
    “You need rest. And food. You should be in a hospital—”
    I pulled her head down and kissed her. Her mouth was warm and soft against mine, and then eager, and finally urgent. I tried to unbutton the shirt, but she was lying across my chest. She tightened her arms around my neck. It was like being devoured. Then she turned a little and began tearing at the buttons of the shirt herself. She slid out of it and tossed it on the floor. She wore no bra.
    “See?” she said.
    “I’m sorry.”
    “I’ll bet you are.”
    ”I mean I’m sorry I was asleep. Does it hurt?”
    She smiled. “Not particularly. I’m just making a big thing of it, looking for sympathy.”
    “I don’t know about sympathy, but if you could use some admiration—”
    “I guess the Irish are hard to kill,” she said.
    I took her in my arms and kissed her again. She made an eager little sound in her throat, and when I began trying to find the zipper of the other garment she was wearing she took my hand in hers and showed me which side it was on.
    * * *
    She went out into the other room. I heard music come up somewhere in the background, and then she appeared in the doorway with a pack of cigarettes. She lighted one and put it between my fingers.
    “Don’t let go of it all at once,” I said. “Wait’ll I brace myself.”
    She smiled. “Poor Irish. Life is just one beating after another.”
    I studied the sensation of having melted and wondered if I’d ever again have strength enough to move. I tried to raise my head, and dizziness attacked me. She lighted a cigarette for herself and stood looking down at me. She had nothing on at all, but appeared completely unconcerned about it. I didn’t believe I had ever seen as much statuesque and unflawed blondeness collected in one area before.
    “You’re lovely,” I said. “How tall are you?”
    “Five-ten,” she replied. “Isn’t it awful?”
    “No. Magnificent is the word I was reaching for.”
    She lay down beside me. “Blarney.”
    “No. I’m too weak to lie about anything. But why are you helping me this way?”
    “Why do you keep harping on that?” she asked. “I told you once. You interest me.”
    “That doesn’t seem like much of a reason.”
    “It’s relative,” she said. “I knew an old man once who sat on a bench in front of a library for eight months trying to figure out why pigeons bob their heads when they walk.”
    “Did he ever find out?” I asked.”No. But it kept him from screaming.”
    “Bunk,” I said. “A girl with everything? Looks, build, vitality, brains—”
    “Did you ever read a volume of first chapters? But never mind; I told you there was no way to explain it to a non-writer, so let’s get back to you for a sort of preliminary brainstorming session. Do you have any money?”
    “About one hundred and seventy dollars.”
    “That’s all?”
    “That’s all I’ll ever get my hands on. There may be some in the checking