The houses on Snow Hill were thronged, like those in Old Bailey. Michelle seemed so innocent and sweet. Anna jumped into a waiting hansom. 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. I'll dig it up.
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