Baptist Kettleby (for so was the Master named) was a "goodly portly man, and a corpulent," whose fair round paunch bespoke the affection he entertained for good liquor and good living. Like most officers, he’d had it especially made, for a man who loved danger had need of a precision instrument of defence. "I didn't imagine for a moment that you'd accept it, but I thought it right to make you the offer. Neither Charvill nor his heir know anything of your presence in England. ‘Why?’ ‘Why take me to France? Why trouble himself with me, when so easily he could leave me to this Monsieur Remenham to keep?’ To Melusine’s instant suspicion, Martha bit her lip, drew a breath, and avoided her charge’s gaze. “There isn’t any way you could be worse than John. "Ah!" he exclaimed, "a letter, beginning 'dearest Aliva,'—that's your mother's name, Thames. Anna’s face was half turned from him, but her expression, and the tone of her monosyllable puzzled him. She had time in the afternoons to do crewelwork and embroidery, no longer occupied by the constant spinning of wool.
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