“Yes. ” “You are foolish,” she declared, with a note of irritability in her tone. 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. “You little wretch!” she exclaimed weakly. What’s that?” They both stood listening. Youth! You denied me even that," said Ruth, her glance now flashing to her father. "What was it?" He was insistent. She felt terrible lying to him.
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