But the relief from the strain of her immediate necessities was immense. ‘Dear me. Even now he was not at all sure that she was not playing with him. And where was that devil? Had the soldiers found him? She could not think he had escaped, for she had only just made it into the passage as they entered the library. ‘That’s why I never told Joan Ibstock that you were still with me when I wrote. He is all kindness, and will overlook them for your poor father's sake —for mine.
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