She had been obliged to wait all morning for the opportunity to talk to Martha, who chose always to retire to her cell for the period of recreation that preceded afternoon prayers. ‘Go on up to the boy, my dear. Never again to be alone! To fit herself into this man's life as a hand into a glove; to use all her skill to force him into the position of depending upon her utterly; to be the spark to the divine fire! He should have his book, even if it had to be written with her heart's blood. That's how I finally got wind of it. Her family are solid West End people, Kensington people. She had never understood how much knowledge had been kept from her because she was a woman and even began to doubt the methods of the Church, something she never would have dared before. *** Madame la Comtesse de St Erme regarded the English major with a lacklustre eye, Gerald thought. A cold shiver ran through her frame, and her gentle spirit passed away for ever.
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