He took her hand in his, raising it closer, and gently touched the maltreated skin. Once in the room, the door locked, the sense of loneliness had dropped away from her as the mists used to drop away from the mountain in the morning. A distant suggestion of chalets and a glimpse of the road set them talking for a time of the world they had left behind. "Oh lord! I hope not. Every man in her life had betrayed her one way or another. ‘Left to yourself, my girl, you may not have any affairs. She acted as her mother had taught her to. But the letter, written in his son’s own hand, and addressed to the Mother Abbess of the Convent of the Sisters of Wisdom near Blaye in the district of Santonge, dated a little over five years previously, exercised a powerful effect upon him.
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