I am writing this in a great hurry, for Heather will come by the Still Room and carry it away. I have wrapped it in a bundle of table linen ready for her to pick up and somehow get it up to her room. I don’t know how; I simply must trust her to make it happen. I will hide the key in a tiny secret compartment Da built into our boxes when he made them so many years ago.
Tomorrow I will slip out and start my new life. I am grateful for all the kindnesses Martha and the others have shown me, and I am grateful my condition has not been noticed. What lies in store for me, I wonder?
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