He could not tell by the look of her whether she was glad or sorry that presently she would be free. 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. “I thought you wanted to have a talk to me,” she said. “But it is so difficult——” “Not at all,” he answered eagerly. She whispered, “Another car is coming,” as lights approached their car. “You have forgotten. Them young prigs is all alike. My house is the next door to the Cooper's Arms, in the Old Bailey, opposite Newgate. Your life, and that of your child, are in my power.
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