’ ‘Don’t start arguing again, for God’s sake,’ snapped Roding irritably, dragging out his own large pocket-handkerchief. " He stared at the agitated curtain; and slowly his chin sank until it touched his chest. The father was a madman. “It’s all dirt that washes off, dear, but it’s dirt. ‘You cannot read my mind at all, monsieur. 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.
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