What gave the puzzling twist to an ordinary situation was her manner: she was guileless. 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. “What are we going to do?” said Capes, with his eyes on the broad distances beyond the ribbon of the river. White and Miss Ellicot laid each a hand upon his arm, one on either side.
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