It was obvious that he had waited for her. You might even tire of me by then, you know. That’s probably true. "All my life I've dreamed of something like this," he said, divertingly, with a gesture which included the yacht. 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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