. ’ ‘Dear me. It gave her joy to see them laughing, even though she was unsure of what she had done wrong. He waited for an instant, wasting an encouraging smile in the imperfect light, and then shut the doors of the van, leaving the women in darkness. These things did not harmonize with his conception of the forthcoming (if unavoidable) interview. ’ *** 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.
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