‘It could not be helped, whichever way I made my presence known. ‘Where the devil have you been?’ ‘Consorting with a nun in the gardens. They had cried a little, both. ‘Mademoiselle,’ he had greeted her, entering the little private parlour where, Martha being at prayer in their room, she sat alone, reading over and over the letter Mother Abbess had given her and revolving plans in her head. I always told you some accident would happen.
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