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. Kneebone's door, you begged me to await your return here, assuring me you would not detain me five minutes. The oranges were of the Syrian variety, small but filled with scarlet honey. The little girl uttered no remonstrance; but, replacing the flowers in the basket, burst into tears, and withdrew.
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