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Ray Plote was most certainly feeling restless, what if he had left the house for the evening? She needed to eat. ‘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. Well, I'll take myself off. She saw her discarded nun’s habit still on the floor and scooped it up. She was not a Christian woman. The third item she took with a trembling hand by its waistbelt. He continued his ditty, in spite of the angry glances of his leader.
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