A home MAY be a sort of cage, but still—it’s a home. “A lady, Dunster. ” Her first upward glance was one of terrified apprehension. Fresh ground, no chicory, and all the rest of it. Monsieur Charvill, he has not the means to choose different. This—’ waving an imperious hand in a sweeping arc about the library ‘—is my house. Annabel had spoken calmly enough and steadily, but his brain refused at first to accept the full meaning of her words.
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