’ *** 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. There were no doors in the bungalow; instead, there were curtains of strung bead and bamboo, always tinkling mysteriously. Through an open door was a glimpse of the bathroom—a vision of luxury, out of which Annabel herself, in a wonderful dressing-gown and followed by a maid presently appeared. “And all the rest of it perhaps is a song. A cat came and rubbed herself against him as he entered the house, and seemed by her mewing to ask him for food. It is useless to contend with him, even with right on your side. ” She replied. Overjoyed beyond measure at having vanquished this apparently-insurmountable obstacle, Jack darted through the door.
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