"Egad!" exclaimed Wood, "you've hit the right nail on the head, anyhow. 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. Horrible doubts assailed her. ‘I don’t want a list of all the nuns resident in your wretched convent.
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