” “What else,” Lady Lescelles murmured, “are men for?” Anna laughed. "I'm sure little Jack has but one friend beside myself, in the world, and that's more than I would have ventured to say for him yesterday. Been making herself at home all right. Something tells me I am rushing on greater danger. "Why, so it is," she said, in mock astonishment. 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. "Weigh anchor, Van!" he shouted to the skipper, "and consult your despatches.
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