He righted a chair and sat in it, his face in his hands. ‘I thought it was his great-nephew, young Brewis Charvill, who is his heir. Rather! Who could help it?” He towered up over her and smiled down at her in his fatherly way. " "From some of your associates?" "From your uncle, from my uncle,—Sir Rowland Trenchard. There was something which chilled even him in the cold impassivity of her features. No—you shall come with me to Waterloo. ‘Both of them so wise after the event.
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