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. I wonder, Ann Veronica, if, when our time comes, we shall be any wiser?” Ann Veronica watched a water-beetle fussing across the green depths. He turned the wheel carefully as he touched her neck with the other, threading her soft curls in between his slim fingers. He did not move.
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