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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. "Those chops, fried potatoes, and buttered toast. " Ruth walked to the companion. ” “You! Why, you have been an angel to her,” he exclaimed impatiently. I didn't mean it. He must win this man's confidence, even at the risk of being called mad. 272 < 34 > EPILOGUE She paced the Manhattan neighborhood, her backpack swinging, marveling at the austere buildings gleaming silver in their starkness. ‘But I have the pistol,’ Gerald pointed out. ‘But what is it that amuses you, Jacques?’ Kimble’s grin spread wider. "I will be there at the time. .

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