You do not know him. With a well-simulated unconcern and a heightened color she finished her breakfast. He will have it that I’ve taken leave of my senses. As I hope for mercy, I speak the truth!— let him deny it if he can. He knocked his pipe on the teak rail. 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.
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