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. "But your dreadful projects will recoil on your own head. There it is—against you. Blueskin, who had evaded me with the papers and the money, is a prisoner here, and will perish on the same gallows as yourself. You're always complaining that you can't keep anybody more than three months. Within forty-eight hours the girl would be on her way east and the boy see-sawing the South China Sea, for ever moving at absolute angles. A black silk furbelowed scarf covered her shoulders; and over the kincob gown hung a yellow satin apron, trimmed with white Persian.
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