This story is in the form of satire ..let's begin..
It was Mrs. Packletide's pleasure and intention that she should shoot a tiger. Not that the lust to kill had suddenly descendend on her, or that she felt that she would leave India safer and more wholesome than she had found it, with one fraction less of wild beast per million of inhabitants. The compiling Moti for her sudden deviation towards the food steps of nimrod was the fact that Loona Bimberton had recently been carried eleven miles in an aeroplane by an algerian Aviator , and talked of nothing else; only A personally procured tiger skin and a heavy harvest of press photographs good successfully counter that sort of thing. Mrs packletide had already arranged in her mind the lunch see would give at a house on curzon Street , ostensibly in Loona Bimberton 's honour, with tiger skin rug occupying most of the four ground and all of the conversation. She had also already designed in her mind the tiger claw broch that she was going to give Loona Bimberton on her next Birthday in a word that is supposed to which chiefly swayed by hunger and by love Mrs. Packletide was an exception; har moments and motives were largely governed by dislike of Loona Bimberton.