“You’re kidding, right?” “Not kidding at all. 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 was standing at the moment close to the hatch, with his ear at the keyhole, and received a severe blow in the face. Even in this dread moment Ruth was conscious of a pathetic interest in the scattering pencils. She had a feeling as though something had dropped from her eyes, as though she had just discovered herself for the first time—discovered herself as a sleepwalker might do, abruptly among dangers, hindrances, and perplexities, on the verge of a cardinal crisis. org/license).
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