The Place of the Lion by Charles Williams — Read

In the street he hesitated. He had more or less recovered himself after the struggle, but he felt very strongly that he wasn't ready for any more of the same kind. Suppose Richardson set about him too? On the other hand he had liked Richardson's looks and he was anxious to gather some information. So far, what he had was emotional rather than intelligible. He didn't quite see why he should be feeling so cheerful now, but he was. He looked back at those two squatting on the floor not merely with the satisfaction of victory but with an irrational delight that found an additional glee in the small efforts he made to arrange his collar and settle his clothing. The back of his neck was smarting, and his sides were as sore as if a much greater strength than of a mature but small and slight woman had attacked him. But these things did not disturb him. He looked up and down the street and came to a quick decision.

"Come," he said, "let us go and see Mr. Richardson. Perhaps he'll turn into a centipede or a ladybird. Like the princess in the _Arabian Nights_. Let's hope I shall remember to tread on him if he does, though if it's anything like the butterfly I shall be simply too terrified to do anything but scramble on to a chair. I wish I could understand something of what's happening. So I do. Is this the right turning? Apparently. But what will be the end of it all?"