" "What kind?" "Dickens, Hugo. Lassitude?” “I suppose so. “When are you going away?” He asked. “I ought never have gone to the Zoo, I suppose. He sat back in an easy chair with a hand upon each of the elbows, and looked steadfastly into the fire. Where can we sit down and talk?” He led her across the room towards a window recess, in which a tall, fair young man was seated with an evening paper in his hand. ’ ‘You mean the one that you refused to feed?’ demanded Gerald, seizing this promising cue and adopting a mournful note.
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