militant kind, and became aggressively dull, and called her home the
English Riviera, and had platitudes worked in worsted upon her
tea-cosy, and in the end never died, but passed away in her residence.



THE HOUSE OF THE SPHINX


When I came to the House of the Sphinx it was already dark. They made
me eagerly welcome. And I, in spite of the deed, was glad of any
shelter from that ominous wood. I saw at once that there had been a
deed, although a cloak did all that a cloak may do to conceal it. The
mere uneasiness of the welcome made me suspect that cloak.

The Sphinx was moody and silent. I had not come to pry into the
secrets of Eternity nor to investigate the Sphinx's private life, and
so had little to say and few questions to ask; but to whatever I did
say she remained morosely indifferent. It was clear that either she
suspected me of being in search of the secrets of one of her gods, or
of being boldly inquisitive about her traffic with Time, or else she
was darkly absorbed with brooding upon the deed.

I saw soon enough that there was another than me to welcome; I saw it
from the hurried way that they glanced from the door to the deed and
back to the door again. And it was clear that the welcome was to be a
bolted door. But such bolts, and such a door! Rust and decay and
fungus had been there far too long, and it was not a barrier any
longer that would keep out even a determined wolf. And it seemed to be
something worse than a wolf that they feared.