Give me that precious charge," he added, snatching the bundle from Wood. And then, for the first time, Wood noticed a small stream of blood coursing slowly down her cheek. ” “Why?” “If I were bad at it, you would be on your way to the hospital by now. And they had an idea of what men were like behind all their nicety. 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.
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