He reached over and took her hand. Books were always sliding and slipping, clumsy objects to hold. Afterward she wanted to get her letter to her father back in order to read it over again, and, if it tallied with her general impression of it, re-write it. Stanley, whose family had been by any reckoning inconsiderable—to use the kindliest term. " "I hope such a thing never will happen again, my dear," observed Wood, mildly, "but, when it does, it will be time to consider what course we ought to pursue. ‘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. Soon the trunk, portmanteau and hat box were ready. I don’t know. The room seemed a vacuum.
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