’ *** 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. Or had she, like himself, been held up until the fellow returned to town? He waited, his ready humour anticipating her likely reaction. . ‘The cat’s foot, Hilary. ” He sprang to action. Beyond was another door, on which was painted in black letters: MR.
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