" "We found all his pockets empty. ‘Melusine. Wood uttered something like an imprecation. 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. Men had tried to kiss her— unshaven derelicts, some of them terrible—but she had always managed to escape.
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