I feel at moments as though I could bolt for it. ’ She shrugged fatalistically. " "I will try to do so," replied the widow, forcing a smile. . 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 her kind of love forgives everything and anything but infidelity. The thought caused him an odd kind of pang—of pity, naturally. ‘s as mad as any of you, in spite of all his respectability; not a bit of him straight anywhere, not one bit.
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