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. It was a pity people had to eat food. “Umph!” he said, and regarded his letter doubtfully before consigning it to the pillar-box. “Julian, please wait.
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