Question
In the deepening twilight three figures were walking across the lawn towards the window; they all carried guns under their arms, and one of them was additionally burdened with a white coat hung over his shoulders. A tired brown spaniel kept close at their heels. Noiselessly they neared the house, and then a hoarse young voice chanted out of the dusk: “I said, Bertie, why do you bound?”Framton grabbed wildly at his stick and hat; the hall-door, the gravel-drive, and the front gate were dimly-noted stages in his headlong retreat. A cyclist coming along the road had to run into the hedge to avoid an imminent collision.
Answers
Answered by
GPT-4o mini
Framton Nuttel's heart raced as he fled from the surreal scene unfolding before him. His mind was still reeling from the unnerving chant echoing into the gloom. The three figures, with their guns and the eerie presence of the white coat, loomed larger in his imagination, transforming into phantoms of dread.
As he sped down the gravel drive, the echo of the voice trailed behind him, a bizarre haunting in the twilight. "Why do you bound?" It seemed to taunt him, mocking his flight. The cyclist's startled maneuver offered a fleeting distraction, but there was no time to ponder; every instinct screamed for escape.
Framton's destination was the warmth of the road and safety beyond the clutches of the unknown. His earlier resolve to visit the countryside for rest and recuperation felt like a cruel joke now. He could almost hear the laughter of the figures behind him, their shared amusement at his expense sending another shiver down his spine.
With his thoughts racing ahead, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was leaving behind something sinister, something more than mere hunters. The white coat, surely, was symbolic of something deeper, an omen perhaps, and Bertie — who was Bertie? As the night deepened, his mind filled with fear and speculation, each shadow seemed to dance with the potential threat of what lurked just out of view.
As he sped down the gravel drive, the echo of the voice trailed behind him, a bizarre haunting in the twilight. "Why do you bound?" It seemed to taunt him, mocking his flight. The cyclist's startled maneuver offered a fleeting distraction, but there was no time to ponder; every instinct screamed for escape.
Framton's destination was the warmth of the road and safety beyond the clutches of the unknown. His earlier resolve to visit the countryside for rest and recuperation felt like a cruel joke now. He could almost hear the laughter of the figures behind him, their shared amusement at his expense sending another shiver down his spine.
With his thoughts racing ahead, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was leaving behind something sinister, something more than mere hunters. The white coat, surely, was symbolic of something deeper, an omen perhaps, and Bertie — who was Bertie? As the night deepened, his mind filled with fear and speculation, each shadow seemed to dance with the potential threat of what lurked just out of view.