The chance had gone. E. " "Jack's mother?" exclaimed the young man. ‘Her own,’ Gerald replied. 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 had no wish to drag the footman out of his way, once he had got his questions answered. ‘Let us go elsewhere and discuss the matter.
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