And not a worthy tome in sight. To love in such a way, it is excessively selfish. ‘Wait a minute, though. CHAPTER IX. Chapter Seven ‘Oh, my God,’ burst from Gerald. 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. Reaction set in and she leapt at him, beating at his chest with her fists.
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