‘It had better not be, by God,’ had barked Captain Hilary Roding. I don't care how soon he learns that he has lost his adopted son. Inside was Anna, leaning a little forward to watch the passers-by, bright-eyed, full to the brim of the insatiable curiosity of youth—the desire to understand and appreciate this new world in which she found herself. "You are the son of Sir Montacute Trenchard, of Ashton-Hall, near Manchester.
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