Free Love Lies Dreaming by C S Forester Page A

other side of the lagoon—and
stop there
for a bit.”
    They obeyed her. Opera Top was an efficient disciplinarian. Off they went, all twelve of them, carrying Constance with them, wriggling and screaming. I was left alone with Opera Top, tied neck and crop and desperately uncomfortable internally.
    â€œThat’s better,” said Opera Top, rubbing her hands.
    â€œI give in,” I said. “Untie me.”
    Opera Top grinned unpleasantly.
    â€œYou’re not clever enough, old man,” she said. “Do you think I don’t see what your little game is?”
    I had of course decided that as soon as I was free I would knock her on the head and then set about tackling the other twelve.
    â€œNot that I’m afraid,” said Opera Top. “I could wring your neck like a seagull’s if I wanted to.”
    Opera Top swelled out her biceps for my inspection. I felt inclined to agree with her.
    (“Coward!” said Constance. “Any excuse.”)
    â€œBut I shan’t take any chances,” said Opera Top. “I won’t untie you very much.”
    That took the gilt off the gingerbread. But I could still argue.
    â€œOh, well,” I said, “you’re no better off than when you started. You’ve brought me here, I know. You can bring a horse to the water, but—”
    â€œCan’t I?” said Opera Top, meditatively. “Can’t I? There’s spiky spears, and red-hot coals, and jolly good hidings with shark’s-skin straps. We might try a few on Constance first. Shall I send for her again?”
    Phew! That more or less settled the matter. Opera Top read my face like a book.
    â€œWell,” said Opera Top, “what about it now?”
    It was then that the situation changed. The other women came racing round the reef, and with them was Constance, free of her bonds.
    â€œA ship! A ship!” they screamed. “A big ship, and a boat is coming over to us!”
    Opera Top’s manner changed like a dissolving view.
    â€œGood gracious me!” she said. “Quick, where’s something to put on? Oh, and where’s my jade necklace?”
    That’s very nearly all the story. It was a fine, big liner that had rescued us, and the passengers received us with tremendous enthusiasm. They listened breathless to our tales of adventures. They were most sympathetic when they heard of the accidental death (I think we said it was drowning, or snake-bite, or something) of the missing member of the party—her whose teeth, strung together, had been desperately hurled into the lagoon by a repentant Opera Top, before the arrival of the ship’s boat.
    The girls were fitted out with clothes by the passengers, and Opera Top and her companions displayed, in the way in which they adapted their normal figures toabnormal fashions, the eternal triumph of mind over matter. In the evening the passengers arranged a dance for us. As I walked on to the floor in perfect fitting evening dress (though borrowed) with newly shaved and baby-smooth cheeks, with my neat and glowing little wife at my side—
    â€œGoodness me!” said Constance, jumping up, “look at the time! So
that’s
why you started talking about evening dress and dances and things. If you’re going to take me out to dinner before the Watkins’ dance we’ll have to buck up like anything. Come along, do!”
    I did not see very much of Constance at that dance. I never do see much of Constance at dances. There are too many
very
young men and undergraduates who own the earth for me even to get a look in. I will swear that one of them that night dived between my legs to reach her and appropriate her before me.
    But that night as we were coming home Constance tucked her hand into my arm and chattered away to me as happily as ever I have known her. And in the hall as I was taking off my overcoat she came up to me.
    â€œI don’t think that was at all the