What was she going to do? One main idea possessed her: she must get away from home, she must assert herself at once or perish. Jesus! They just wouldn’t let up about you after you played the violin for them. “Men’s waists are neither here nor there; A man scores always, everywhere. ‘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.
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