She smiled. ‘Don’t concern yourself,’ Gerald said calmly. “Lots of ‘em!” Capes chuckled. 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. 47, straightening her hat and waiting for her luggage to appear.
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