It seemed to him that a sort of mist had risen up between them. She said you HAD some money. 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. “We are the species,” said Miss Miniver, “men are only incidents. McClintock says they can't get in there, or at least they never try it. The great untrodden world was before her still, into which no one can pass alone. So am I.
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