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She dressed quickly, pulling on white jeans and a red tee shirt. This obstacle being removed, in his eagerness to proceed, he had forgotten to take his little charge with him. ‘I’m only surprised you have not released yourself. ” Sir John frowned. 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. He reached over and took her hand. “Well?” “You and all the rest of them are always lamenting that I do not marry.
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