It warms me, and lights me, and fills my world with flowers. 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 took her hat from the peg in the corner and began to put it on. ‘Martha was my wet-nurse? But she is unmarried.
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