"I'd lay down my life for yours. Thames Darrell is—" "My husband nicknames him Thames," interrupted Mrs. ” “It will make it. I went to her rooms to-night. 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. ‘You’ve found her out?’ ‘Tell us at once,’ urged Miss Froxfield. “I suppose he’s frightfully clever,” said Miss Klegg. "Woman, your wits are fled!" And so it seemed; for all the answer she could make was to murmur distractedly, "I can't find the key.
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