Mrs. Again the chalky pallor spread even to her lips, her eyes became lit with the old terror. “I wonder what you could do?” he said. 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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