’ *** 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 had agonized over it for weeks. She had been in the drawing-room for a few minutes before the gong had sounded, and had chattered gaily to every one. “How could he call except in your absence, as you are never at home in the afternoon. You ignore me! That’s not a good way to treat your only friend. But I have two hundred thousand pounds. " "No fear of that," laughed Kneebone.
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