” Carolyn shushed him modestly. They could not have called it a fatal motor accident if he had not been dead. 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. He breathed a little sigh of satisfaction. From this night I shall pursue a different course; from this night his ruin may be dated. “I knew,” she said, in a low despairing tone, “that people would talk. If only you could see the people who have been to call on me! Sir John has the most absurd ideas, too.
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