She entered the front hall, formerly magnificent, now faded and dusty, the old wood table waiting for guests who would never come. The news that his granddaughter desired an audience Lord Charvill had greeted with merely a grunt, which turned into a roar as his gorge rose when he heard that she was accompanied by her husband. She continued to fan herself. At the bottom of the trunk was a large manila envelope, unmarked. Never had she seemed to him so much like Anna. ‘My papa he does not wish me to marry the man I choose, and thus he places me in the convent that the nuns may lock me up and I cannot escape. And mind he doesn't stir out of your sight, on any pretence whatever, till I call.
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