You must—you shall be mine. Or shall I ask Colonel Anson for a few hints?” “For Heaven’s sake no,” she declared. The question ceased to be a tea-table talk, and became suddenly tragically real for Ann Veronica. This was an imitation of the noises made by the carnivora at the Zoological Gardens at feeding-time; the idea was taken up by prisoner after prisoner until the whole place was alive with barkings, yappings, roarings, pelican chatterings, and feline yowlings, interspersed with shrieks of hysterical laughter.
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