Her new husband was pleased to watch the astonished look on her face as tray after tray appeared on the grand table, each better than the next. Her glance, absorbing the gilt letters and their significance, communicated to her poised body a species of paralysis. ‘What’s more,’ went on Martha, ‘I knew something Mr Charvill didn’t, or he wouldn’t so readily have left it behind him. “You must be the Miss Pellissier of whom David has told me so much,” he said, shyly.
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