She threw out a hand to stop herself from cannoning into them and, losing balance, tripped over her own petticoats and fell to the carpeted floor, her hat falling off as she did so. The longing to talk to someone! But in the end she had gone to her room without giving in to the craving. There were all varieties of bird-life known in these latitudes, from the bird of paradise down to the tiny scarlet-beaked love-birds. It must be somewhere hereabouts. “I’d rather go as a chorus-girl,” she said. ‘Yes, tell us everything at once,’ instructed Lucilla, pushing him towards the sofa she had vacated, and obliging him to sit beside her. "We'll see that, you yelping hounds!" rejoined Jonathan, glaring fiercely at them.
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