[The previous chapter has been edited]
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Thomas came to a decision.
Since the girl's reaction to Mr. Blenntmort's talk seemed tenacious, he wasn't willing to get in the middle of that. Standing there for much longer than he currently was, would irreverently provoke a harmful opinion in Rochester's mind, he thought. And then, no matter how she'd shrugged off his direct talk before, Thomas knew white from black. The servants did talk, and not one time alone did they mention Mr. Blenntmort's bias towards this peculiar guest of his.
The sun was a hazy blur on the horizon, slowly fleeing from the approaching noon. Marcel, the stableboy had wrapped up his work and was removing the horses into their den. Thomas, catching a quick glimpse of all of that, picked out words.