For aught I know, they may be in the neighbourhood at this moment. I won't give him a chance. He put down his hat and umbrella, rested his hands on his hips, and regarded Ann Veronica firmly. He declined to come in. Only a son’s another story. He was yellow and coarse of hair; flea-bitten, too; and even as he smiled at Ruth and wagged his stumpy tail, he was forced to turn savagely upon one of these disturbers who had no sense of the fitness of things. ’ *** 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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