‘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. ’ Abruptly, the niggling doubt that had been plaguing Lord Charvill came sweeping to the surface. “Monsieur would dine! It was very good! And Madame, of course?” with a low bow.
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