She loved to dress the Fritz and Anna in outfits that she stitched from discarded velvet dresses. 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. ’ Joan sniffed. Father— dead. I do not think that he has quite got over his surprise at finding you established here. “Who can tell?” she said. She loves you too well for that. Annabel had spoken calmly enough and steadily, but his brain refused at first to accept the full meaning of her words. “I’ve been looking out for you,” he said. "Restore it," he cried, in an authoritative voice.
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