She made noises between weeping and laughter as she went. 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. ” “And no one else—has a key?” “I believe,” she said, “that that man must have one. "There's only one way out of the muddle, that I can see. I’m sorry to disappoint you. His business has thriven; legacies have unexpectedly dropped into his lap; and, to crown all, he has made a large fortune by a lucky speculation in South-Sea stock,—made it, too, where so many others have lost fortunes, your humble servant amongst the number—ha! ha! In a word, Sir, Mr. When they started getting on each other’s nerves, she blamed herself at first.
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