’ ‘I still think you ought to have waited, miss. I have strength enough to drag myself there, and I do not want to return. Cheveney strolled up, a pipe in his mouth. “Is that so? Who says?” He demanded, his eyebrows arching as he looked at her with puerile glee. 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. . ’ ‘Precisely. ’ A laugh escaped her. Truth to tell, more damage had been done in the enthusiastic chase carried out by the militiamen detailed to catch it.
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