On the cords being removed, he made a desperate spring at Wild, bore him to the ground, clutched at his throat, and would, infallibly, have strangled him, if the keepers had not all thrown themselves upon him, and by main force torn him off. Stanley regarded him through his glasses with something approaching animosity. " "That's not my game. Oh, the scent of the flowers that day, the delicious quiet, the swallows that dived before us in the river. “Why not?” “Because you are mine.
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