“It isn’t fair. “But how can you?” asked Constance. ” “If you want anything,” he said, “or get into any trouble, wire me. 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. ‘Ah, there is the little menace itself,’ he drawled, recovering some of his own sangfroid. Then Sheila noticed the stains.
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