To prevent the leaves from blowing about, should a blow develop, he distributed paper weights. “Can you take any from me?” “No, I won’t do that. I consider even now that the present colour is far less becoming. 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.
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