“You’ll get me to allude to it, but you’d have to torture me to admit it. But when she was thinking it over in her room that evening vague and baffling doubts came drifting across this conviction. 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. Oh, I’ve loved love, dear! I’ve loved love and you, and the glory of you; and the great time is over, and I have to go carefully and bear children, and—take care of my hair—and when I am done with that I shall be an old woman. "With me?" said Thames.
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