"Give me the child, or—" As he spoke the door was thrown open, and Mrs. 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. She was still fully dressed; so all she had to do was to pause before the mirror and give her hair a few pats. "I've made no distinction between you, hitherto," answered Wood; "nor shall I do so, unless I'm compelled. To escape one phase of loneliness she had plunged into another, so vast that her courage sometimes faltered. What was she going to do? One main idea possessed her: she must get away from home, she must assert herself at once or perish.
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