And yet she knew it was not fair to call her a foolish girl. 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. "And so you've given up all hope of escaping, eh, Jack?" remarked Hogarth. "Good gracious! so I do," exclaimed his amiable consort. He was a man tout à fait capable, this Gerald. ‘But for my dowry, what else? One cannot expect that an Englishman will marry any jeune demoiselle without a dowry.
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