But the mere recognition of his son’s signature was enough to stoke the fires of his long-held rage. ‘She didn’t behave in the least like an émigré, if these people are anything to go by. "My horses, Charcam," he said, as a servant appeared. “I suppose, Mr. “Rubbish!” he answered. Had he had the child to think of, he might have recovered from his grief at Mary’s death.
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