For a while he threatened her. She had refused to eat human beings when she had first learned her fate. “It isn’t quite that we’re toys. Have the goodness to affix your name to that memorandum, Sir Rowland. 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.
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