She did not open the Bible but laid it on the edge of the bed, knelt and rested her forehead upon the worn leather cover. ‘Good God! Everett Charvill, as I live. She would be healthy, too, and vigorous. ’ ‘I am afraid that there is,’ Gerald told her evenly. He won’t have menservants inside the house, and his collection of carriages is only fit for a museum—where most of his friends ought to be, by-the-bye. Like the flaws of an old marble. Her eyes threatened to leak tears, she blinked. ‘Very.
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