’ ‘So Charvill did tell him,’ Gerald said, once more staring into the hole in the wall. I wanted to talk to you before when you first came to live here two years ago, but I never did. He was plainly attired in a riding-dress and boots of the period, and wore a hanger by his side. The sun shined weakly through brief pinpricks 90 in the thick cloud cover, the weather was brewing a storm. ’ *** 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.
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