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. It seemed to encapsulate the mosquito like a little piece of moonlight, it was talismanic to her. . “I will tell you something if you like. "He has quite the air of one. He felt that he might soon be separated—perhaps, for ever—from the fond little creature he held in his arms, whom he had always regarded with the warmest fraternal affection, and the thought of how much she would suffer from the separation so sensibly affected him, that he could not help joining in her grief. ’ ‘As far as I know it, ma’am. " "But why not?" The doctor dallied with his teaspoon. Here, it might be anything at all. He did not disturb any of this litter, but left it as a mark of his prowess. ” “We will go to a very quiet place,” he assured her, “a place where I have often taken my own sisters.
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