“Is that so? Who says?” He demanded, his eyebrows arching as he looked at her with puerile glee. She had thought to wear it now, since she must look more the demoiselle. ’ *** 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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