" "You have no son," rejoined Sir Rowland, moodily. ” “Oh my goodness. " "Then you will stay!" she cried, clapping her hands joyfully, "for I'm sure he won't part with you. 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. Very soon she would be able to forget it. SHOOH!” “That’s no reason,” said Ann Veronica, speaking through her handkerchief and stopping abruptly.
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