Fortescue raised his eyebrows and assumed a light-comedy expression. ’ ‘Not, I trust, Nicholas Charvill?’ ‘Hardly. For nearly thirty years he had lived here in contented loneliness; then youth had to come and fill him with discontent. She did not wait, but grabbed up the lantern and slid into the passage, calling to them to hurry. At every step he seemed to be haunted by the ghost of the past. I’ll wait my whole life!” He cried.
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