Below her stretched a valley of rich meadowland, of yellow cornfields, and beyond moorland hillside glorious with purple heather and golden gorse. Didn’t I say that this whole business of your camping in Remenham House was the one aspect I could not puzzle out?’ ‘You are very clever, monsieur Gérard,’ she conceded, although Gerald was amused by the grudging note, ‘but in truth it is not yet my house. "Are you my son? Are you Jack?" "I am," replied Jack. . ‘What’s more, I wouldn’t blame her. The latch came with a weak click. It was a night of storm and terror, which promised each moment to become more stormy and more terrible.
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