Far away there was the one woman for this boy of mine—some human being who would understand the dear fool better than all the rest of the world. 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. Yet the fact remains that you do not understand me at all. ‘Don’t put me at the necessity of marrying the abominable little wretch. "Not materially, Mr.
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