“But I—I went to Nigel Ennison for help. For a long time neither spoke again. 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. She looked upon it with pity as she drank his diabetic blood and saw that several of his fingers were missing.
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