She felt pride sashay into her thoughts. A person of somewhat artificial graces and mannerisms, she was for once in her life perfectly natural. Fortescue rambled round the garden with soft, propitiatory steps, the Corinthian nose upraised and his hands behind his back, pausing to look long and hard at the fruit-trees against the wall. ” “Don’t worry yourself. . The hour for which, presumably, she had been created was drawing nigh. The streets were full of colour.
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