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"To paint your portrait," answered the jailer. 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. He left that arid rule clear of the least mist of refinement or delicacy. Through an open door was a glimpse of the bathroom—a vision of luxury, out of which Annabel herself, in a wonderful dressing-gown and followed by a maid presently appeared. Such of his features as were visible were of coarse mould. ” John greeted him. \"Good night, girls.
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