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. She treaded down the hall swiftly but stopped abruptly when she heard a voice in back of her. It’s Providence. Capes sat down in the armchair beside her.
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