It did not shock her; it amazed her, interested her beyond measure. ‘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. Coffee à la Turque wasn't so bad; but a guy couldn't soak his breakfast toast in it. “I’ll turn you here.
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