" "What?" said the doctor, whose thoughts were in something of a turmoil. She held it by the neck and broke the end of the bottle on the hard dirt. He stepped back further. She listened with dumb fear in her eyes. 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. And still you interest yourself in my affairs.
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