‘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. He would have to go on; he would be forced to enact all the obligations he had imposed upon himself. ‘Either you tell me why you want the wretched animal, or it stays here. They could not go on.
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