"Thank you," she said, and left the office. 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. He became primitive, literal in his conception; the ramifications were, for the nonce, fairly relegated to limbo. Her attenuated arms were crossed upon her breast; and her black brows and eyelashes contrasted fearfully with the livid whiteness of her skin. He grew even harder.
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