Why should she? she asked rebelliously. 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 would never recognize me now. I offered myself as a clerk, as a milliner, as a shop girl. Gianfrancesco stumbled belatedly onto the beach, his feet padding wet sand. ‘I told her you couldn’t have been flirting, but she wouldn’t believe me.
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