“You can’t imagine,” Sydney exclaimed, “that the people downstairs will be such drivelling asses as to believe piffle like that. " All day long the phrase interpolated her thoughts. 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. Little more’n a week. “I could not have stayed in Paris and waited for news. If only monsieur le baron had said nothing, or perhaps instead accepted the couple as the Valades and agreed to help them.
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