She was acquiring truths, but in a series of shocks rather than by the process of analysis. Her head ached with a hollow pain. Covered with houses, from one end to the other, this reverend and picturesque structure presented the appearance of a street across the Thames. 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.
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