After what seemed like an eternity he turned right onto a dirt road that ended unceremoniously at a copse of leafless trees. Opposite to her was a sallow-visaged young man, whose small tie seemed like a smudge of obtusively shiny black across the front of a high close-drawn collar. They’re all wonderful cooks. Lord Charvill’s sense of justice would not, however, allow him to repudiate his granddaughter, if indeed this female proved to be the infant lost to the family so many years ago. “Often,” he repeated, a little heavily.
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