’ *** 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. She could tell that he was furious in that instant. “Lucy!” He whispered into her ear beneath a dusty curtain cloud. She read for half an hour, then closed the book because Spurlock appeared to have fallen asleep. To Ruth the thought of Hartford no longer projected upon her vision a city of spires and houses and tree-lined streets. And he liked her. The kindly faced landlady had failed to catch his name, and said he was a tall, handsome gentleman with a great black mustache. ” “It was an inspiration—your speaking to him?” “I felt impudent. He was disquieted.
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