‘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. Her relationship with John had made her the object of desire for scores of teenage boys who had dared not previously think of her in such a way. She opened the window, for the night was mild, and sat on the floor with her chin resting upon the window-sill. We had no idea.
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