"Do not despair, my sweet soul," said Wood, in a soothing tone. 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. Kneebone made no effort to check the unreasonable merriment of his companions, but rather seemed to encourage it. Besides, she will do no such thing. Capes became rigid and adhesive. Take it, and take the estates, in Captain Sheppard's name. "His wife is still living," returned Kneebone, drily.
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