"Can't you take me with you?" urged the voice; "I'll make it well worth your while. She made a quick movement, and the hand fell away. Or he would find something—a wave in her hair, a little line in the contour of her brow or neck, that made an exquisite discovery. 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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