But I am not worthy to be any man's wife —far less his wife. ‘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. Practically it was most of the chief interests in life that she proposed to settle in this pedestrian meditation. Though there is something to be said for your idea of a secret convent, at least as a hiding place. ‘Oh, ah.
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