In order to make Mr. She was dressed as English girls do dress for town, without either coquetry or harshness: her collarless blouse confessed a pretty neck, her eyes were bright and steady, and her dark hair waved loosely and graciously over her ears. 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. It was clear by the look on her face that she decided to leave the house immediately. She had done forever with the Age of Chivalry, and her own base adaptations of its traditions to the compromising life.
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