"Intruding!" echoed Mrs. Why? If she had put the query to herself, she could not have answered it. Pragmar, the wholesale druggist, who lived three gardens away, and who had been mowing his lawn to get an appetite for dinner, standing in a fascinated attitude beside the forgotten lawn-mower and watching her intently. They'll be back soon enough—or not at all. ’ ‘Ah, but there’s the little matter of your presence here,’ said Gerald on a note of apology. Pretty good stuff, some of it.
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