A palisade of Canary palms formed an honour guard along the verges, while beds of golden cannas flamed from the central reservation.
It was a casual sneer, obviously one of a long line. There was hatred behind it, but of a quiet, chronic type, nothing new or unduly virulent, and he was taken aback by the flicker of amazed incredulity that passed over the younger man's ravaged face.
He had been visiting an area zoo when a monkey swung from its tree perch, swiped his glasses and hurled them into a hippo hole.
It took me about 20 minutes there and back.
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