“Whitlatch, despite his upbringing, was not a regular churchgoer. And even if he were, church services would be the last place in the village he would choose to be seen with Clarissa. It seemed ill-advised, to put it mildly, to flaunt Clarissa in the face of the parish when he still hoped—however dim the prospect seemed at the moment—to eventually make her his mistress. On the other hand, since she appeared determined to go, it would be unseemly to allow her to go alone. Unseemly and a trifle cr...uel, to send her alone into that lion’s den! It spoke volumes about her innocence that she would even suggest attending church while residing unchaperoned at a bachelor’s residence. But she came downstairs on Sunday morning gloved and bonneted, her right hand buttoning her redingote over the white muslin she had worn her first evening at Morecroft Cottage, and a battered prayer book in her left. She apparently took it for granted that respectable persons attended church of a Sunday. Trevor did not care to explain to his guest the exact reasons why the thought of attending church with her on his arm made his hair stand on end.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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