" "Whom do you mean?" demanded Jackson. She would rend him limb from limb like a fiend if only she could move. Miching Mallecho. "'Odd's-my-life!—what's that?" he cried, greatly alarmed. 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.
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