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. “She contrives somehow to strike the personal note in an amazing manner. “I will have your true reason. “Loneliness,” she said, “is a luxury which I never permit myself. “No, I am alone,” she answered. There was nothing of the phenomenon in this. ” She said, and ducked back into her room. ‘That’s better,’ said Gerald, and let her go. He was Julian five years younger, the spitting image. She decided not to ask him outright if he wished to make love to her.
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