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But two weeks later he returned. ” “I suppose,” said Constance, stencilling away at bright pink petals, “it’s our lot. Annabel a murderess! It was not possible. 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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