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. "Zounds!" cried Kneebone, furiously. "Take a drop of brandy before we start, watchman," said Wood, pouring out a glass of spirit, and presenting it to Terence, who smacked his lips as he disposed of it. His glance swept up again and found her staring at him with much of her usual defiance, if a touch less of her customary assurance.
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