She mentally reprimanded herself to alter her own visage so as not to appear depraved. From the opposite corner under the trees a man with his hat slouched over his eyes stood and glowered at them. She hesitated, and for a moment thought of omitting her second verse altogether. She cried out with the pain of it. 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.
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