. She could still remember herself at age five, staring knives and daggers at the men who came into the small yarn shop, under pretense of business but really just to leer. More than ever Sir John was glad that he had sat down. 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. In a moment he was beside her. “Lucy, do you forgive me?” She looked at him in earnest. The girl only smiled at him serenely, but she laid her hand for a moment quietly upon his.
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