” “Where do you go?” “Oh!—Alps. She turned back to Gerald, holding out her hand. 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. The girl wished that she had come afoot, despite the knowledge that she would have suffered many inconveniences, accidental and intentional jostling, insolence and ribald jest. "You won't betray him. His mother smiled in return, an act that brightened her thin face.
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