“I do,” Anna answered. 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. Their houses became a refuge of ill repute, the source of rumor and intrigue in the highest echelons of society. “Now, there, there. Locked! He sped out to the corridor and went swiftly into the next room. She was supposed to be reading at home, and after breakfast she strolled into the vegetable garden, and having taken up a position upon the staging of a disused greenhouse that had the double advantage of being hidden from the windows of the house and secure from the sudden appearance of any one, she resumed the reading of Mr. Wood turned over to obtain a more comfortable position.
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