“Concern me!” she repeated fiercely. My father was Colonel Pellissier. 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. “I came to London unexpectedly, and my friends could not take me in. I figured it would hurt your feelings if you knew I still talked to him, so I kept my mouth shut.
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