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. ‘But if there is one, how in the world did this mystery lady of yours know of it?’ ‘That, Lucy, is precisely the point that has been exercising my mind,’ Gerald said, turning his eyes once more to the group of French exiles in the alcove. When I promised to marry you I thought I could; I thought it was a possible arrangement. The atmosphere seemed heavy with the odour of drugs. " "If I thought so—" cried the knight fiercely; "but this is idle," he added, suddenly checking himself.
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