” “I suppose,” Ennison said, “the likeness between the sisters must be rather exceptional?” “I never saw the goody-goody one close to, so I can’t say,” Drummond answered. 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. On regaining his breath, he began to consider whither chance had led him; and, rubbing his eyes to clear his sight, he perceived a sombre pile, with a lofty tower and broad roof, immediately in front of him. He hated the taste of it. She was not a reversion to type, which intimates the primordial; she suggested rather the incarnation of some goddess of the South Seas.
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