’ Fire enveloped Charvill’s mind and he brought up his cane, pointed like a musket. Did you break my mother's heart as you tried to break mine? I am no longer accountable to you for anything. I want to get away—to go to London. Stanley, at the door. She enjoyed preparing the evening meals, the smells of potatoes roasting in the oven, the stink of onions in the pan, the crackle of chicken frying. “Is that plain?” she asked. Brendon dismissed the subject with a wave of the hand. All the world about her seemed to be—how can one put it?—in wrappers, like a house when people leave it in the summer.
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