Is all that folly done with—for ever?” Annabel shivered ever so slightly. 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. We were properly married, and the certificate is at my lawyer’s. “Ssh!” said her mother, and then added, “A little natural feeling, dear. Somewhere in the world there was a book clerk with a discerning mind; for he had given her the best he had. .
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