’ *** 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. For Ruth grew lovelier as the days went on. The boy was coming around. The hotel manager was expostulating and Ah Cum was replying by a series of expressive shrugs.
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