And she—’ ‘She!’ interrupted the young lady crossly. Fine woman, Lady Trafford—a little on the wane though. I must tell somebody—and you would understand. Nasty, damp passages. She’s taken my sword. As she averted her gaze, a terrible idea crossed her. Hitherto, no visiters had been permitted to see him. ‘That there governess didn’t like it, of course, me being the lodgekeeper’s girl, and Martha just a country wench like me. He touched a long-standing sore, and Ann Veronica found herself vainly trying to explain—the inexplicable. A town called Foster. To be no longer with Martha was strange.
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