“The camp was situated a few miles from Melton Mowbray, and he found the motley collection of gaudily painted caravans and tattered tents with little difficulty. Surrounded by encroaching woods, the dwellings nestled in a small hollow. A horse, one of many tethered at the far end of the hollow, snorted and stamped in the cold morning air, and the sound floated, muffled and indistinct, to Clive's ears as he reined in his own mount. , At first glance, it appeared all the inhabitants were st...ill asleep, for the area had a forlorn and forgotten appearance; even the mongrels that infested the camp were curled and sleeping underneath the wagons. Then an old woman, her black hair streaked with gray, walked out of one of the tents and threw some small sticks of wood on one of the smoldering campfires. Her clothes were faded and worn but still bore traces of a once bright green and yellow design; gold hoops hung from her ears, and a scarlet shawl covered her bony shoulders. Watching her, Clive wondered with ill-concealed disgust what possessed Catherine to seek out these people.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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