He was chained to the ground, but started up at their approach. I never had even a real doll," she added, as she snuggled the flea-bitten head to her heart. Here, Peter," he added to a curly-headed lad, who was playing on one of the grassy tombs, "ask your father to step this way. Bête, she told herself fiercely. 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.
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