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. It was easy for him to see that she desired to be agreeable to him. You see, I have had to look after myself so long that I have developed a terrible bump of independence. And yet—such is the buoyancy of youth—within a fortnight he began his first novel, pretending to himself that it was on Ruth's account. Martin said “Hi” to her in the halls every day now, a sure sign of trouble. Could she hold him and manage the reins? If only Gerald had not gone. The smile had become a laugh. Gerald watched her perambulations in silence, his heart wrung.
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