” Annabel rose slowly to her feet, walked to the door as though to see that it was shut, and came back with slow lagging footsteps. The Trenchard estates will likewise be mine, for Sir Rowland is no more, and the youth, Thames, will never again see daylight. The atmosphere was 46 strained and deathly quiet at the dining room table. Her foster father had been outside for most of the morning, working on trimming the maple trees and mowing the lawn.
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