" Rambling in this way, the matron at length came to a halt, and taking out a key, pointed to a door and said, "This is 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. "Now, Sir, I'll trouble you for your coat. That was one of the mysterious qualities of this child of the lagoon: she had always at instant service that Oriental mask of impenetrable calm that no Occidental trick could dislodge. She felt that perhaps, in her desire to play an adequate part in the conversation, she had talked rather more freely than she ought to have done, and given him a wrong impression of herself. ‘Who me, sir? Lor’ no, sir.
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