But he only went home again to Paddington. There were the burnt papers still in the grate. Her hair, once red, faded to a thin gray that she kept cut into a practical short bob. The face of the man who lay there was clearly visible. 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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