He smiled. ’ *** 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. I always told you some accident would happen. But from the rest—you saved me. ’ He grimaced. “I’ll buy a new one. White rang the bell.
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