’ *** 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. He went over his interview with her again, their conversation at dinner-time. Her heart in her mouth, hoping against hope, Melusine made her way back to where she had left the boy. She drew in a deep breath of the sweet mountain air. " "Help me through at all hazards, Poll," cried Jack, straining towards the opening. The figure she had longed to see came into her line of vision, but at this crucial moment of hideous realisation, Melusine barely took it in, her eyes fixing blankly on the man behind.
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