"Save me!—save me!" "Damnation!" vociferated Jonathan, savagely. His countenance was pale as death, but not a muscle quivered; nor did he betray the slightest appearance of fear. 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. 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. Spurling; "they're both here. She's headed for America.
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