“No thank you, not at all,” said she.
“I assure you it is not done intentionally,” he went on. “Of course I know a good deal about Babylon, and I unconsciously communicate it to you; you’ve heard of thought-reading, but some of the things you say, I don’t understand; they never enter my head, and yet they’re so astoundingly probable.”
“It’s all right,” said Anthea reassuringly. “I understand. And don’t worry. It’s all quite simple really.”
It was not quite so simple when Anthea, having heard the others come in, went down, and before she had had time to ask how they had liked the Zoo, heard a noise outside, compared to which the wild beasts’ noises were gentle as singing birds.
“Good gracious!” cried Anthea, “what’s that?”
The loud hum of many voices came through the open window. Words could be distinguished.
“’Ere’s a guy!”
“This ain’t November. That ain’t no guy. It’s a ballet lady, that’s what it is.”
“Not it—it’s a bloomin’ looney, I tell you.”
Then came a clear voice that they knew.