" The Gate, which crossed Newgate Street, had a wide arch for carriages, and a postern, on the north side, for footpassengers. ” “The man?” 228 “Yes. 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. “Cheveney wouldn’t have anything to say about it, as it happens,” he remarked, a little grimly. "My mother is avenged. “Dear me!” he said.
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