I thought that he was dead. 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. "Mr. "Don't you know me, mother?" "Ah!" shrieked Mrs. \" She sat down on a nearby bench. It was not due to shyness: it was the inherent instinct of the Woman, a protective fear that she must retain some elements of mystery in order to hold the interest of the male. I thought—the papers said——” “You thought that I was dead,” he interrupted. His face fell.
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