The odds were astounding and yet he had it bad. Hell's curses! that after all my precautions I should be thus entrapped. Hours were spent in preparation for the event. “Miss Pellissier, isn’t it?” he said. 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 sound sleeper, she was not roused by the creaky openings and closings of drawers as Lucy packed a single duffle bag with underwear and soap that was pilfered from a multipack of Zest in the Beck’s downstairs bathroom. John turned toward the short staircase as she alit upon the first creaky step.
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