Cheveney was looking after her, I think, then. She galloped up the small stairs, hearing that Shari had finally risen. ‘Assuming she can prove her identity, does Remenham House belong to her?’ Mrs Sindlesham shifted her shoulders. Not far from him was a knot of lads drinking, swearing, and playing at dice as eagerly and as skilfully as any of the older hands. Only her face was clear, frail and delicate, almost flower-like, with the sad haunting eyes ever watching his.
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