’ *** 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. "This is our last transaction together. "It's a whale of a place. "Well—well," grumbled Jonathan, "I suppose I must be content. "I beg pardon," he said. "You came hither under my protection, and you shall depart freely,—nay, more, you shall have an hour's grace.
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