I did all for the best, I'm sure. ’ ‘I’m that sorry, miss,’ Kimble said glumly. The next moment, an exclamation was heard in the voice of Thames. He turned irresolutely to the table upon which lay the scattered leaves of his old manuscripts. 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. Sheppard. He turned the water off and handed her a towel. It would hurt no one. Just what it means. Small wonder she had learned to be self-reliant.
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