’ He turned to the lodgekeeper behind him, whose shocked fear had given place to a direful frown. Before he even glanced at the man on the floor he stepped over to her side and took the poker from her. We'll get together this afternoon; and you can pretend that I am your father. I tore the marriage certificate from his pocket and burnt it. " "And all the time you loved her?"—appalled. 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.
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