’ ‘Lord,’ Gerald murmured, awed more by the outspokenness of his hostess than by what she had said. "Heaven grant you may have been wrongly informed with respect to Thames!" exclaimed Winifred; "but, I beseech you, on no account to mention what you have told me to my poor father. He drew a little breath and stepped back. Wood, I desire you'll put on your best things, and join us as soon as possible. ’ *** 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. "By my shoul!" he exclaimed, smacking his lips, "dat ish goot—very goot. Wood.
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