He looks a little ruffled." They were quite alone in the zareba.

The giraffes had fallen in behind and were following them, and level with them, on Hillyard's side, the ostrich stepped like a delicate lady in a muddy street.

Hillyard found it a little difficult to concentrate his thoughts on Stella Croyle's message.

But he would have delivered it awkwardly in any case.

He had seen enough of Harry Luttrell last night to understand that an ocean now rolled between those two.
"On the first night of my play, 'The Dark Tower,'" he began, and suddenly faced around as the ostrich fell back.
"Yes!" said Luttrell, and he eyed the ostrich indifferently.