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. "Gadzooks! I thought something was coming on; for when I looked at the weather-glass an hour ago, it had sunk lower than I ever remember it. You have been burning paper, I see. ” “I am highly flattered,” she remarked, with subtle irony. You’ve placed me in a very exceptional position, Miss Stanley. The clever hostess having let fall that several distinguished guests from France would be present, the world had flocked to her doors to catch, like the gossip-hungry vultures they were, a glimpse of them. Both Spurlock and McClintock stood by their chairs until she was gone. I have always understood that men avoid like the plague a woman with a sense of humour.
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