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” “Then, by God!” he said, “you’ll be locked up!” Ann Veronica was disconcerted for a moment. “I’ve fallen in love. “Lucy, have you noticed that I don’t even own a dog?” He spoke into her hair. “That doesn’t touch the question I asked you,” she said. He had an appointment in Jersey, you know, after he left the army. They happen to a man. 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. Silence! Then Anna clutched her companion’s arm.
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