Once in, the constable's manner appeared totally changed. And I’ve read, and thought, and guessed, and looked—until MY innocence—it’s smirched. This was an imitation of the noises made by the carnivora at the Zoological Gardens at feeding-time; the idea was taken up by prisoner after prisoner until the whole place was alive with barkings, yappings, roarings, pelican chatterings, and feline yowlings, interspersed with shrieks of hysterical laughter. “Yes, I will go,” she promised, with a queer little smile. She wanted to be alone. But when she was thinking it over in her room that evening vague and baffling doubts came drifting across this conviction. Distress like hers might palliate far greater offences than she ever committed. That delightful sense of free, unembarrassed movement was gone.
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