Then she moved towards the door. "I likes to hear vot you says. The lady's name's engraved inside, but so small I can scarcely read it. Past her shot the little old lady in the bonnet, running incredibly fast, but otherwise still alertly respectable, and she was making a strange threatening sound as she ran, such as one would use in driving ducks out of a garden—“B-rr-r-r-r—!” and pawing with black-gloved hands. I must have this beast brought to London with me, that is seen. She felt a lump rise in her throat, for she had come to love living in America.
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