He forgot for the moment his own self-pity, the egotism of his own passionate love. She could hear their footsteps upon the pavement. Vitally, she had the letter that proved her identity as a Charvill: the one her father had written to the Abbess when he sent her to the convent. The scent of cloying pine dust filled the air as floodlights shone eerily through the jungle gym of new wood. But he would die if he continued in this course. "But I'll yet disappoint you.
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