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. Mr. ‘What the devil do you think you’re doing?’ protested Hilary angrily. ‘What are you, a nincompoop? She was Nicholas’s wife, of course. . Mr. I will give you a broad free life.
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