He must know she’ll be at a convent. 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. As she averted her gaze, a terrible idea crossed her. ” “I believe you,” she murmured. ” He leaned to kiss her 131 and she returned his kiss, which she drew out, savored, and tried to memorize. Feigning an air of casualness, Lucy asked the obvious. Yet an indiscriminating, wrong-headed world gave such fellows all sorts of distinctions. A piece of old blanket was fastened across her shoulders, and she had no other clothing except a petticoat.
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