“I suppose, daddy, you’ve no objection to my going on with my work at the Imperial College?” she asked. “What’s wrong with having witchcraft books? Is she afraid that the Princeton Hill villagers will burn you at stake?” Lucy asked sarcastically. " "Very true," chuckled Jackson; "very true. Gerald stood quite still for a moment or two, listening intently. There were two sisters, you know. I did not care—no woman really cares—to play the beggar maid to your King Cophetua. Jack's life hangs on your determination. 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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