The condition of the rooms was indescribably filthy and disgusting; nor were the habits of the occupants much more cleanly. 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. Was this the right moment? After what she had said about Jarvis Remenham’s habits, he could do with more information before he revealed his purpose. Presently, two carriages dashed down the hill, and drew up before it. Long ago. Even our coarseness. For days I have been undecided as to whether I would come to you or no. She wanted air—and the distraction of having moving and changing things about her.
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