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, I don't blame you on that ground. They were drenched with water and suds. His quiet, kindly smile implied his serene disbelief in any confessible thing.
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