He could not tell by the look of her whether she was glad or sorry that presently she would be free. No great lover of state or state costume at any time, he was generally, towards the close of an evening, completely in dishabille, and in this condition he now presented himself to his subjects. He “went in” for microscopy in the unphilosophical Victorian manner as his “hobby. Then the inner door opened abruptly. 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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