It was a gorgeous May evening, the air redolent with the soapy purple scents of hyacinth and lilac. ’ ‘Don’t you believe it. After all, the Wastrel was in luck: he was alone. They got on wonderfully well together. “A number of beautiful things are not intense. 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. He was nearly wincing.
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