“He couldn’t look me in the face and say it,” said Ann Veronica. “I will go,” he said. He nodded silently, too full for words. It was immediately opened by a man with light eyelashes and a manner suggestive of restrained passion. 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. Well, one must hope, that was all.
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