“Listen,” she said. He had an objective now. 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. The tourist season would soon be at ebb, and it would be late in September before the tide returned. She was greatly exercised by the problem of confiding in the Widgetts; they were dears, and she talked away two evenings with Constance without broaching the topic; she made some vague intimations in letters to Miss Miniver that Miss Miniver failed to mark. It was the only way to make the monthly bills. To remove this obstacle it was necessary make an extensive breach in the wall. ‘I am entirely English.
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