“Anna!” she repeated. “Is it your maid?” he asked. ’ ‘But, no,’ She dimpled. I sha'n't cry any more. Wood," urged Jack. " "Let me see it," cried Thames, snatching it from him. I knew it. 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. Afraid there'll be a love-affair.
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