“Let your friends act for you. I learned of your betrothal, gleaned all the information I could simply by eavesdropping. 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. " "What proof have you that I am?"—was the return bolt. ” She laid her fingers for a moment upon his arm.
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