For a time he and Miss Klegg contradicted one another. 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. She reads novels—and history—and all sorts of things. ’ ‘But it was not your fault,’ protested Gosse, shocked. And she was about as capable of intelligent argument as a runaway steam-roller. "Mother—dear mother! Once again, I beseech you to listen to me.
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