"I don't know how it is," he added in a low voice to Thames, as they were left alone, "but I've a strange foreboding of ill. Do not disquiet yourself. It was easy to discover that he was a knave, but equally easy to perceive that he was a pleasant fellow; a combination of qualities by no means of rare occurrence. He must have married when he was quite a young man. Someone, it appeared, was trying to profit from that fact. 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. A spot of colour, brighter than any rouge, burned on her cheeks. The weather's been foul enough for the last fortnight, but I've never turned my back upon it.
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