’ The sharp eyes twinkled. But his glance roved, to the door through which Ruth had gone, to Enschede's drooping back. 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. Before she knew what had happened, Gosse turned suddenly, and vaulted one of the pews into the gap behind. You see, I’m selfish. Well, I'd no idea," she continued, pursuing her ruminations as she left the room, "that people of quality laughed so. “I have had a trying evening and I need rest.
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