“All right?” he asked. He looked the boy over with interest. ‘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. The sing-song girls in Hong-Kong are far handsomer. I'm told he's so handsome. But oh, how weary I am! I know.
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