All the turnkeys rose to salute the thief-taker, whose habitually-sullen countenance looked gloomier than usual. “I confess it. ‘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. "You musht do dat shob yourself, Mishter Vild," rejoined Abraham, shaking his head. ’ ‘No, you are a gentleman,’ she agreed. ‘This journey I do not like,’ she said more loudly. ’.
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