She was aware of him—a silk-hatted, shiny-black figure on the opposite side of the Avenue; and then, abruptly and startlingly, he crossed the road and saluted and spoke to her. Manning in fancy costume, as though he was a doll. As for himself, there had never been a touch of it. ‘I ain’t done nothing wrong, I swear it. I do, however. 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. "A little, Sir," replied the executioner, with a grim smile. Rather! Who could help it?” He towered up over her and smiled down at her in his fatherly way. "I declare I'm all in a cold sweat.
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