Then Courtlaw looked across at her with a white puzzled face. 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. Splendidly. She would never again be lonely. “You and Anna,” she said, “seem to have stumbled upon a mare’s nest. "Is there anything wrong with it?" "Wrong? Why, you have been imposed upon somewhere.
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