Vitally, she had the letter that proved her identity as a Charvill: the one her father had written to the Abbess when he sent her to the convent. "You are no longer Thames Darrell," she said, casting her eyes rapidly over it; "but the Marquis de Chatillon. " "There's no hurry. "I feel like work," he lied. " "What right have you to suppose this, Sir?" demanded Trenchard, sternly.
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