" "Mr. ’ ‘Of course you weren’t there,’ snapped Hilary. Her husband sat in a chair beside her bed, his head in his hands. His father and mother were a lawyer and a doctor, respectively. 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. “Your affectionate “FATHER. Can you come over?” “I think so.
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