Those who lived outside the law might squabble among themselves, even unto death, Leonardo told her. But whenever the storm grew dangerous, either McClintock or Spurlock broke into saving laughter. “She is marvellously clever,” he said. Just then—I was nervous. ‘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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