There was a bare chance that he had been mistaken. ‘I find you excessively rude, both of you,’ said the lady crossly. "They shall not harm you, my love!" she exclaimed. 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. "While I live you are safe," rejoined Trenchard; "after my death I can answer for nothing.
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