. ’ *** 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 were mysterious rustlings that made him glance hopefully toward the sea. ’ “Crude, I admit. But next moment, Captain Roding put up her back. Observe it—a blue-serge coat.
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