‘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. He panted for a moment with unuttered replies, and then, with a scornful gesture, got up and left the cell. The day was sunny and pleasant, devoid of chill winds. This path, bordered on each side by high privet hedges of the most beautiful green, soon brought them to a stile.
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