But on the awful animals guarding the steps the light was florid,
like a flush of sunburn discovered by the ablution of a warranted
complexion cream. They were wonderfully pink, and Diana hastened
to draw an arrow from her quiver, for it seemed to her as if her
feline neighbors were beginning to glow with rage.
"Do not shoot," said the ruddier one; "we are not angry, we are
only blushing." And he glanced at her costume.
Diana was astonished to hear a masculine voice utter such a modest
sentiment. But being a woman, she knew that the first word does
not count.
"Cats never blush," she answered boldly, "no matter how big they
are."
"But we are not Cats," they cried, ramping suddenly like crests
on a millionaire's note-paper. "We are Lions!"
Diana smiled at this, for now she felt safe, remembering that when
a male begins to boast he is not dangerous.
"Roar a little for me, please," she said, laying down her unconcealed
weapon.
"Impossible," said the Northern Lion, "a city ordinance forbids
unnecessary noise."
"Nonsense!" interrupted the Southern Lion.
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