Spurlock has gone. The papers are continually wondering what has become of ‘Alcide. "Then, of course, you must know. "Come—the kiss!" cried Austin, endeavouring to pass his arm familiarly round the Amazon's waist. “Let us walk round to Covent Garden,” he suggested. The girl’s gaze met his in interested inquiry. 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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