’ *** 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. She felt smaller and more adventurous even than she had expected to feel. His treatment of his wife is most unsatisfactory. Not like my father. "Where is your accursed master?" demanded Blueskin, holding the sword to his throat.
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