’ She turned, her eyes narrowed. 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. Anyhow, there it is: YOU ARE NOT GOING THERE. In futur', I'll keep the 'Evenin' Star' for his lordship's enemies.
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