” He said. ‘Expect? He’s had a twenty-four hour watch on Remenham House these two days. To witness this girl sewing on a loose button, flopping the coat about on her knees, tickled his ironic sense of humour; and laughter bubbled into his throat. His face clouded with anger. She let her mind run into dreams of that cloud paradise of an altered world in which the Goopes and Minivers, the Fabians and reforming people believed. Vitally, she had the letter that proved her identity as a Charvill: the one her father had written to the Abbess when he sent her to the convent. The flat was apparently empty. It was a habit of his to talk to himself. P.
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