She went to her bedroom, but she did not go to bed. “Drive to 13, Montague Street, cabman,” she ordered. The woollen-draper looked at his watch. She had known that Remenham House would be deserted, for Martha—released, as she had carefully explained to her charge, by her vows to God from servitude and obedience to Nicholas Charvill, a mere mortal—had begun a correspondence with a friend of her youth, Mrs Joan Ibstock, née Pottiswick. ” “And you have sent him about his business.
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