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. ‘Oh, peste,’ she cried out in distressed tones. “What on earth did you expect me to do, then?” he asked. I’m going to tell you things plainly. Katy oozed money from every pore of her being. ‘Very inventive. He had meant to come at his business in a roundabout way, but for that little slip. All make the same answer—'d—n you, keep it. G.
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