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. “It’s odd—I have no doubt in my mind that what we are doing is wrong,” he said. Afterwards, it may be different. There were moments when she thought of turning upon this man and talking to him. " "The very idea is dreadful," whimpered Edgeworth Bess. "I could not believe you capable of so foul a deed. The iron slipped from his face, leaving it blank with astonishment.
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