He could not permit her to remain in that position. Vorsack sat alone at his computer in his pajamas. ‘You!’ ‘Yes, it is I, mademoiselle,’ he continued in his own tongue. She fell asleep instantaneously, fatigued from weeks of exhaustion. ‘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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