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. Deny me, if you please. He regretted— more deeply than he could say—the occurrence of this evening. “A most wonderful likeness, too. I don’t care! I’m glad I did. \"Has your heart melted, Lucia? Can you see the purposefulness of your future?\" Marina asked. “Excellent fellow!” he answered a little irrelevantly. ’ ‘Must we talk of it? I’m trying to forget it. I did so.
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