The contact is disturbing; and we prefer going around the fact to facing it. 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. "Did you ever see the like of her?" "No," answered McClintock, gravely.
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