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 he had scarcely advanced a step, when he was felled to the ground by a blow from the powerful arm of Kneebone, who, instantly possessing himself of a pistol, levelled it at Jackson's head. Michelle was too polite to put it into words. “A nice time of anxiety you’ve given me, young lady,” he said, as he entered the room. ” “John, maybe I don’t want to try out for orchestra right now because my heart isn’t in it.
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