Chapter_448

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April 3

We met a remarkable Bulldog today in the street, humbly following behind a tiny boy to whom it was attached by a piece of string. At the time we were following in the wake of three magnificent Serbian Officers, and I was particularly interesting myself in the curious cut of their top boots. But the Bulldog was the Red Herring in our path.

“Is that a Dog?” I asked the little boy.

He assured me that it was, and so it turned out to be, though Bullfrog would have been a better name for it, the forelegs being more bandied, the back broader and the mouth wider than in any Bulldog I have ever seen. It was a super-Bulldog.

We turned and walked on. “There,” said R⁠⸺, “now we have lost our Serbian Officers.”