The scream of the rabbit, after the
violent tussle, seemed to have torn the veil of her consciousness. He
looked at her, and the whitish, electric gleam in his face intensified.
'I don't really like him,' Winifred was crooning. 'I don't care for him
as I do for Loozie. He's hateful really.'
A smile twisted Gudrun's face, as she recovered. She knew she was
revealed. 'Don't they make the most fearful noise when they scream?'
she cried, the high note in her voice, like a sea-gull's cry.
'Abominable,' he said.
'He shouldn't be so silly when he has to be taken out,' Winifred was
saying, putting out her hand and touching the rabbit tentatively, as it
skulked under his arm, motionless as if it were dead.
'He's not dead, is he Gerald?' she asked.
'No, he ought to be,' he said.
'Yes, he ought!' cried the child, with a sudden flush of amusement. And
she touched the rabbit with more confidence. 'His heart is beating SO
fast. Isn't he funny? He really is.'
'Where do you want him?' asked Gerald.
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