In March of 1915, all three of Lord and Lady Chetwynd-Pitt's sons'd been gassed, blown up or machine-gunned in the very same week at the battle of Neuve-Chapelle. All three. Imagine that: On Monday, you've got three sons, by Friday you've got none. Lady Albertina had just, y'know, caved in. Physically, mentally, spiritually, brutally.
Death finds you in such strange poses. How long can you cry, until the rivers gone and dry.
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Death finds you in such strange poses. How long can you cry, until the rivers gone and dry.
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