"Quite sorry, my good friend, there should have been any misunderstanding between us," observed the woollen-draper. ’ Jack Kimble took a deep breath. 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. The Frenchman was already being followed. John turned toward the short staircase as she alit upon the first creaky step. To go to him, to console him! But she stirred not from her hiding place. Gerald smiled and excused himself with the Poussaint girl, whose mouth pinched together as she threw a dagger glance at the voluptuous Madame Valade. But I will go.
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