” She scoffed. He put down his hat and umbrella, rested his hands on his hips, and regarded Ann Veronica firmly. Figg?" said Jack, peevishly. He reached the top floor and ran down the corridor to the little dressing room at the end where he had lost her before. "He's in St. 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. Never be downhearted.
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