"He's a base, deceitful, tyrannical, hoary-headed libertine—that's what he is. Mr. ” Drummond looked up with mock eagerness. Hill was exchanging greetings with his hostess, and salutations around the table. He then made a sort of running noose, passed it over her body, and taking firmly hold of the bars, prepared to guide her descent. ’ ‘But you don’t look anything like her,’ burst out Mrs Ibstock. 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.
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