” “I am your friend,” he said slowly, “whatever you may have to tell me. “You know what? You’re right. It heralded you, promised you. ’ Joan nodded, her face still averted. “Who?” She asked. ’ *** 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.
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