Beneath the serene unconcern of Ann Veronica’s face was a boiling tumult. ‘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. ’ ‘Ah, the matter begins to come clear,’ Gerald said. There was no keeping Sheila from the truth, and it was better that anyone who lived under her roof knew it.
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