“Miss Pellissier,” he said, “I don’t understand this change in you. ‘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. “Some day you will be my wife, and it would not be well for either of us to remember that in these unhappy days you and I were separated. Winter came at the manor. Come along, you mad jade. ’ He laughed.
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