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. "Who knows but this key may open a golden lock one of these days?" And, picking it up, he thrust it into his pocket. "Jack," said Wild, with a glance of malignant triumph, "I will now tell you what I have done. In one grave, mind. However, I'll make a last effort to save the poor little creature, if it costs me my life. "I'm tired of the life I'm leading. "Oh! no—no—no," cried Winifred, "I cannot believe it.
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