"Do not endanger yourself on my account," rejoined his mother. 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. "I don't deserve it," he said, at length; "but I would have risked a thousand deaths to enjoy this moment's happiness. 266 She peered up at him.
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