’ *** 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 was afraid it would be so. “Will they worry about you getting caught in a storm?” She asked him as she viewed black clouds floating in different directions. Ruth stared thoughtfully at the waiting coolies. He regretted now that in his idle hours he hadn't hunted up one against the rainy day. "But, where's the strange gentleman I saw under the table?" "Under the table!" echoed Blueskin, winking at Jack.
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