Explore "The Greater Trumps" by Charles Williams on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Sybil, with a great deal of difficulty, although it did not occur to her to call it that, had managed to get Aaron downstairs and into the drawing-room. She had wanted him to be helped to his bedroom, but this he had altogether refused. He wouldn't go up those stairs; he wouldn't go back into the thicker mist; he would go down; he would get away if he could. She wasn't to leave him--everyone else had left him--and they would be on him.
"They?" Sybil asked as she helped him cautiously along. "Splendid, Mr. Lee. You could get upstairs almost as well, you know. Easier, in fact. No, all right--if you'd rather. They?"