‘I thought it was his great-nephew, young Brewis Charvill, who is his heir. Mother had forced Lucy to memorize the ingredients of the stews, fairly beating them into her, spanking her backside when she rebelled. It was ended. She met the keen grey eyes of a clean-shaven man, between forty and fifty, quietly dressed in professional attire. ‘I doubt very much whether they are yours at all. His appetite was perfectly Gargantuan. ‘It is, you understand, that Monsieur Charvill did not—how do you say in English?—having an eye to an eye—’ ‘Didn’t see eye to eye with the Vicomte Valade? That I can well believe. Anna sat with the face of a Sphinx— waiting. In regard to yourself, you've had a very narrow escape.
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