But the letter, written in his son’s own hand, and addressed to the Mother Abbess of the Convent of the Sisters of Wisdom near Blaye in the district of Santonge, dated a little over five years previously, exercised a powerful effect upon him. I had no idea you were not the happiest girl. There was no one at home, and I was coming away when I saw that the door was open. ’ Taken aback, Gerald let out a short laugh. She too at once developed an anxious interest in the street outside. No; I’m going to stick to the rules.
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