CHAPTER IX. Nab and Quilt to the door! Jack, you are my prisoner. ‘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. I felt—I felt living in a masked world. I fought ten lions at once. But with Gosse and the woman in prison here, there is always the chance that the whole affair may be raked up all over again.
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