“I’d never have a day of peace again, John. Wood—and after him came his daughter. “Lucy Albert, sir. You are restless, aggressive, critical with all the crude unthinking criticism of youth. 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. All I can say is, it's well meant; and I may add, I'd have made it five minutes ago, if you'd given me the opportunity. Her head was downcast as she studied the museum-like exhibits of various dusts on the resilient tile flooring. After all, I fancy that I shall have to apply for a situation as a nursery governess who understands French.
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