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 felt a hysterical desire to strike him, to burst out crying, to blurt out the whole miserable truth. " "To-morrow will be too late," said Sheppard, moodily. Ennison spoke at last. "Mercy on us!" cried he, as a thrill of apprehension ran through his frame.
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