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. ‘What can I do, miss?’ ‘Nothing at all,’ cried Melusine. But her words were not addressed to Melusine. No girl with a face like that…. “It’s still a marvel to me that we are to be forgiven,” she said, turning. Listening at one of the doors leading to the Master Debtors' side, he heard a loud voice chanting a Bacchanalian melody, and the boisterous laughter that accompanied the song, convinced him that no suspicion was entertained in this quarter.
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