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. ‘I dropped the lantern,’ Jack’s muffled voice told her. Close upon this came another thought. “Never was such an age of transition. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.
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