After a while one began to talk. He did not want Ruth to see his own stricken countenance; nor did he care to see hers, ravaged by tears. 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. " "Well, Sir," gasped Mrs. In fact, the whole face had undergone a transformation. The three clerks fought for the only window, and saw her whisked into a hansom.
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