"If you doubt my word, woman," replied the carpenter's wife, coldly, "ask Mr. 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. ’ Taking the chair she had indicated with a careless wave of one stiff-fingered hand, Gerald felt hope burgeoning.
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