” Sheila snarled. White assured her. “Of course he may merely have been telling her who we were, but I think it improbable. 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. "That's it!"—eagerly. You can do it, if you will.
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