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. " "I know you'll contradict it, Sir," said the widow, looking at Wood as if she dreaded to have her fears confirmed,—"I know you will. The Higher Life and the Lower. Every now and then she fingered an ornament, moved a piece of furniture, or rearranged some draperies. She drifted, via Theobald’s Road, obliquely toward the region about Titchfield Street. I’m sorry to disappoint you. He would get her to come to tea with him, usually in a pleasant tea-room over a fruit-shop in Tottenham Court Road, and he would discuss his own point of view and hint at a thousand devotions were she but to command him.
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