’ *** 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 wish I didn’t swear. The entrance was barred against them; and they had the additional mortification of hearing Sheppard's loud laughter at their discomfiture. The old-fashioned dress, with its series of ruffles and printed flowers, ballooned treacherously, revealing her well-turned leg in silk stockings, as it snapped against her body as a mould. Through yet another doorway she observed an ancient silk brocade loom. The action did not pass unnoticed by Sheppard. Warm life was behind that always, even if it slept.
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