One day her mother swept into the bedroom of the family townhouse, sweeping across the floor with a bundle in her arms. 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. Living’s just material. ‘I am glad it is you, because you can help me.
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