“It is not that. 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. Gin Lane's the nearest road to the churchyard. The veranda bamboo will be enough for me. In the northwest angle, there was a small pen for female offenders, and, on the south, a more commodious enclosure appropriated to the master-debtors and strangers. Yet she took with her an uneasy consciousness that in this affair might lie the germs of future trouble.
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