By this time, the procession had reached the west end of the wall of St. ‘Mademoiselle,’ he had greeted her, entering the little private parlour where, Martha being at prayer in their room, she sat alone, reading over and over the letter Mother Abbess had given her and revolving plans in her head. ” She looked at him with uplifted eyebrows—a look of whimsical incredulity. There must be something behind the missioner's actions, something of which the girl knew nothing nor suspected.
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