A white house that she often found charming loomed gray and ashen, its gardens shorn for the coming winter. 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. It was one of the secret troubles of her mind, this grotesque twist her ideas would sometimes take, as though they rebelled and rioted. It was supposed he was drowned in crossing the river, as his body had never been found. And me, I know very much of soldiers. That is what they think we are for!” “We’re beasts,” said Teddy. The gong will go at seven-thirty. “I’ll be hanged if I do. Cheveney was looking after her, I think, then.
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