‘You put that thing away now, missie. The Enschede Bible—the one out of which she read—had been strangely mutilated. 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. Just beyond there would be her heart's desire. It was after all a momentary affair. Wood brought up.
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