"I yield to fate. Lucy stepped inside. 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. Knowing the South Seas from hearsay and by travel, he knew something of that inertia which blunted the fineness, innate and acquired, of white men and women, the eternal warfare against indifference and slovenliness. "On my soul, yes," rejoined Jonathan. I need only just jump up and throw myself upon you. I suspect he has a bit of vanity. Not a word had been exchanged between the two boys on the road.
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