"Oh! nothin' partickler—mere curossity," replied Terence. The burden of decision had been transferred. 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. It's my way when I'm ruffled. She felt a new warmth in her blood, a strange sense of elation crept over her. And the rumors! You two are fiends, ghouls, murdering wolves!” “You don’t care about Fritz and Anna! You only care for yourself!” Lucy screamed, her words falling on deaf ears.
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