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. “Mary! What’s going on! Why are you crying?!” He commanded an answer in a worried and slightly irritated tone. Sheppard uttered a piercing scream. He carried her into his bedroom as she unfastened the tiny white buttons of his shirt. Be so good as to let me pass, sir,” she added, looking her obstructor steadily in the face. " Carefully depositing Winifred on a sofa, Jack then extinguished the light, and, as he unfastened the door, crept behind it. There was none.
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