Faintly bothered by what it might mean, Gerald rose from his seat and crossed to the tray to pour himself a glass of wine. "Only the dog," replied the rough tones of a man. 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 pushed her small hand into his jeans. " "It's a queer girl. He had been on the point of leaving the restaurant. I’d only get a pack of lies in reply.
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