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. CHAPTER XXXI. Wood grasped his companion's arm to attract his attention to this unexpected means of escape. I am altogether a person of a disposition extremely interfering, as you have so often told me. Even in his fevered hours, so the girl had said, his tongue had not betrayed him. A boy no older than she, Gianfrancesco’s cousin, whispered what he would like to do to her when she stole into the hallways near the women’s chambers to fix herself. —I'll soon find you out. Griffin. .
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