"The end is the most beautiful in English literature. 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. Of course she had taken the boy as her lover, acting as his muse. Gerald tried it. “I wish I didn’t swear. They either ran to see or ran for shelter. . You see, the horse it does not belong to me, nor to the nuns.
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