Perhaps an hour passed before she laid aside the book. A dozen books lay upon the counterpane. This was enough for the poor widow. It was a brief solitude, however. “I’d give anything,” he remarked, “to see our little Vee happily and comfortably married. I like the way you shared it. “Do you think you’ll ever get married, Lucy?” Lucy shifted uncomfortably as she pulled her makeshift nightgown—an old T-shirt—over her head. ’ *** 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. Considering how little he lets her have. The newcomer stopped short upon the threshold. When she told him that the natives called her The Dawn Pearl, his delight was unbounded. She examined Michelle’s pale face.
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