“Don’t we all rather humbug about the coarseness? All we women, I mean,” said she. She hesitated, and for a moment thought of omitting her second verse altogether. 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. ” She stopped buttoning her glove, and looked at him. "You don't recollect me, I presume?" premised the stranger, taking a seat.
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