For a time Spurlock did not move. ‘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. “You should probably wash all of that stuff off of yourself. But I said I wouldn't drive a hard bargain with you, and I won't. He saw that she was tense.
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