“How crude you are, Anna!” she exclaimed with a little sigh. It was not a difficult affair. 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. ‘You will have to prove it, you know,’ Gerald said quietly. Lucia liked the doctor though, and he seemed to be very fond of her too.
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