’ ‘Who is that?’ demanded Lucilla eagerly. But I was sorry for poor Jack—as I am still, and hoped he would mend. I didn’t realize—I don’t see how I can get out of it now. ” They left the restaurant just as the rain slowed to a dull trickle, the fury of the storm exhausted, having left mirror puddles in its wake. ‘Besides, I don’t want the men blundering in here and frightening off our spy. 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.
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