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. “Did he tell you, Annabel?” “Yes. Besides, you've secrets which must not be disclosed. ‘One of they Frenchies, that’s what I say—if it ain’t a ghost. What a contrast did the lovely scene she now gazed upon present to the squalid neighbourhood she had recently quitted! On all sides, expanded prospects of country the most exquisite and most varied.
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