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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. Sheppard made an effort to speak, but her voice was choked by emotion. There was no way to warn her of his presence without startling her. Will you read to me? I am tired; and the sound of your voice makes me drowsy. "Ah! traitor!" cried Jack, pulling the trigger of his pistol. \" Lucy obliged her, walking back to the entryway and slipping off the loafers. Sheppard, passing her hands over his face, and gazing at him with a look that made him shudder. ’ So saying, he pulled her forward, slipping her arms about his back.
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