Something in his tone pinched her heart. “I didn’t know you were half-Gypsy either. Her eyelids fluttered with recognition, and she cried out softly. I did not even know where to write and thank you. So I've grown hard—outside. He saluted awkwardly. ‘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.
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