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 only heard this afternoon,” Sydney continued. “You’ll be there, right?” She asked, hearing his breathing audibly jump. "'The Man Who Could Not Go Home. ” He released her hand and talked in eager undertones against an auditory background of urgency and distress.
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