“To be frank with you, Lady Lescelles, when your brother asked me the other day to be his wife I was under a false impression as regards his relations—with some other person. He stood back and held her shoulders. I wouldn't touch the stuff for all the pearls in India. “Won’t you sit down,” she said, “and tell me what you want to say?” Her voice was flat and faint. "Oh, lud! what's that?" exclaimed a female voice, from an adjoining room. I was looking for rooms last week. “Perhaps you will help me shuffle?” Ann Veronica did, and also assisted nimbly with the arrangements of the rows of eight with which the struggle began. 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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