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. 48 <6> THE FRIDAY NIGHT SHOW The air was chill and the sky overcast and misting. Then the bridge had arched gateways, bristling with spikes, and garnished (as all ancient gateways ought to be) with the heads of traitors. ’ A wary look came over her face, and Roding intervened. "No bones broken, I hope," said Thames, laughing at Jack, who limped towards the bench, rubbing his shins as he went.
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