” “But how did you tell him? You’ve never told me. Who was he to tread on her dreams? She had heroworshipped an unscrupulous adventurer, who had not hesitated to impose on her youth and her ignorance. 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. “So it seems that I was wrong. He glanced up at the coachman. \"Cathy says she'll let me stay out past midnight. You can’t possibly understand!” He began a confused explanation, a perplexing contradictory apology for his urgency and wrath.
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