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. She held out her hand for it, but Gerald smiled. ‘Pen and paper, do you have them?’ ‘Danged if I have,’ came the truculent response.
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