"I want some brandy." The refreshment room was within sight.

Before the keeper quite understood what was required of him, Carmina was speeding over the grass like Atalanta herself.
Benjulia looked after her, with his usual grave attention.

"That wench can run," he said to himself, and turned once more to Ovid.

"In his state of health, he's been fool enough to over-exert himself." So he disposed of the case in his own mind.

Having done that, he remembered the monkey, deposited for the time being on the grass.