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At Anna’s words she seemed suddenly to stiffen. She turned there, clasped her hands behind her back and put up her chin. She walked back to the car. 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.
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