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. He drew a little breath and stepped back. A young woman with a white badge on her arm stood and counted the sections as they entered their vans. If ever he requires my services, he shall find I'm not ungrateful. Horribly skinny he was, and short too.
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