Something, then, to appease the wrath of God; something to blunt this persistent agony. 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. Fortunately, ever since Wild's late murderous attack, the household has all been well armed. They were silent and no longer observant, being more or less exhausted by the tedious action of the chairs. Annabel, tell me that you did not wish me dead.
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