Framton grabbed his hat/and ran through the hall door,/down the gravel drive,/past the front gate.
A cyclist just missed him/and ran into the hedge.
“Hello,/my dear,”/said the man/with the white coat/coming through the window. “Just a little muddy. Who was that person rushing out?”
“Mr. Nuttel,/a very strange man,”/said Mrs. Sappleton. “He only talked about his illnesses. Then he ran off/without saying goodbye/when you arrived. You’d think/he had seen a ghost.”
“Maybe it was the spaniel,”/said her niece calmly. “He told me/that once he was attacked by a pack of wild dogs/in India. He spent the night/in an empty grave/with the dogs snarling above him. That would terrify anyone.”
Telling tales at short notice/was her specialty.
“Hello,/my dear,”/said the man/with the white coat/coming through the window. “Just a little muddy. Who was that person rushing out?”
“Mr. Nuttel,/a very strange man,”/said Mrs. Sappleton. “He only talked about his illnesses. Then he ran off/without saying goodbye/when you arrived. You’d think/he had seen a ghost.”
“Maybe it was the spaniel,”/said her niece calmly. “He told me/that once he was attacked by a pack of wild dogs/in India. He spent the night/in an empty grave/with the dogs snarling above him. That would terrify anyone.”
Telling tales at short notice/was her specialty.