‘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. Not that it would make any difference if he was alive still. It was Annabel who caught at the paper. ” “He was probably right,” she declared. My foster mother, Janine, wasn’t much fatter.
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