" "You might trust me," said Rachel, in an offended tone; "but never mind. ” She smiled, sure of herself beyond any pretending, into his troubled eyes. Perhaps she would have to charge this man and appear in a police-court next day. 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. She wore a black satin dress, a little shiny at the seams, a purposeless bow of white tulle at the back of her neck, and a huge chatelaine. And in the Avenue she had an encounter with Ramage.
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