Wood," she continued, in an authoritative tone, seeing her husband ready to depart, "one word before you set out. ’ ‘I beg your pardon?’ said Miss Froxfield frostily. The sounds of the seashore infiltrated her dreams as she floated in heavenly bliss of sleep. 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. For a moment she remained silent.
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