’ ‘Charvill, then,’ Gerald concluded, unperturbed. “Of course!” he said. You need have no apprehensions about him, Sir Rowland. ’ *** Everett, General Lord Charvill, master of a barony stretching over a wide estate that encroached on the hundreds of Witham, Thurstable and Dengy, stood before his own fireplace, glaring at his visitors from under bushy white brows from a head held necessarily low above a back painfully bent by rheumatism. So Ruth found that for a while her eyes were free.
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