4. She will not confide in me. Langley is getting up, and coming this way. “You go home and think of all this,” he said, “and talk about it to-morrow. 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. And I think also that Gosse—I mean that one who calls himself Valade—stole it. But, like all your overbearing sex, you must have your own way. Puffy blue curtains dressed every oakstained window. Annabel believed it, came to England and married Sir John.
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