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. "So get up, and leave off whimpering. “How are you, Lucy?” Martin ran to catch her in the crowded hall. “You will go and see her,” he begged.
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