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Ruth did not reply, but stared past the doctor, her eyes misty. ’ *** 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. There was a third lady among the younger set. “Pretend,” he said, “that all I have said hasn’t been said.
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