The Unselected Journals of Emma M. Lion: Vol. 2

by Beth Brower

“If you were any of the other girls I know, I would warn you to be on your guard.” “Oh?” I asked, stopping. “But as I am not?” Then came Roland’s smile. “St. George is not the only one who can slay a dragon, Emma Lion. I’ve seen you wield a sword.” It was, perhaps, the most wonderful compliment I’ve ever been paid. I intend to keep Roland.

“You are, I believe, the tallest of my acquaintances save one. Charles Goddard has a good hand on you, but he is gangly and unattractive whereas you are…not. What I mean to say is— Yes, well. The Diagonal is quite crowded today. Are you going home? So am I.”

“When I told him you were at church, he said to tell you that you may go to heaven, but it will be boring without him.”

“Mr. Pierce,” said I, releasing a deep breath, “I would like to apologise for the last two hours of your life.”

“Mr. Pierce,” I said, “I have found that on occasions of high absurdity, one either discovers a great friend or someone to never speak with again. Having now experienced a disastrous evening in Lapis Lazuli House, I leave it to you to decide which you would prefer.”

“Don’t look so afraid, Emma. You and I were never meant to be. I wasn’t going to propose. I was thanking you. I was trying to tell you that I want to find a wife who will consider me as Emma Lion does.”

“If I cannot worship in a majestic building, I have no interest in the practice,” she snipped. Which I assume is not a direct quote from the New Testament.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in a crypt somewhere, for your sins?” Islington asked in a ducal tone. “They evicted me,” I snapped. “Who?” “The dead.”

Well. If I’ve gathered a fiend into my life, at least he’s a charming one.

Our conversation was very June and very Afternoon, meaning it meandered like a honey bee.