She held out both her hands. “I want to speak to you about a little thing, Vee,” said Mr. ’ She shrugged fatalistically. She went into premature labor. 156 He followed, “Um, is it okay if we talk in private for a few minutes somewhere?” Cathy was quick to reply. 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. The chapel was crowded to excess. She could see over a waist high stone wall into the miniature courtyard, complete with benches only a small child could sit upon, one which had been broken in half, its two pieces left unjoined on the sandy ground. “You are positively eloquent to-night—both of you,” she declared. ” She cried once they were in the great room.
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