The tourist season would soon be at ebb, and it would be late in September before the tide returned. ‘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. He stood back and held her shoulders. “You remember the man in Paris who used to follow me about—Meysey Hill they called him?” He nodded. Sheppard," said Wood, glancing round the chamber, as he expanded his palms before the scanty flame. In the little apartment, under the gas chandelier, his inches and his stoop were certainly very effective.
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