"Just in time," said the thief-taker. 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. “And aren’t there fees to pay at the Imperial College?” her aunt was saying—a disagreeable question.
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