‘But you do not understand, mon ami. Manning? I suppose there’s a sort of place like a ticket-office. “I have made no progress with my work,” she said slowly, “and the money was gone. But she did not in the least want to do that. “No!” he said aloud at last. 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. “Among other things, you know, I didn’t understand quite—I didn’t understand that you were so keenly interested in this suffrage question. I am not prying for my own amusement. ‘And I trust you will pardon my inadequacies. All through that brief but measureless space of time during which wonder kept him silent, as fear did her, she cowered there, a limp helpless object.
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