“I hope that whatever your plans may be, you will give me the opportunity of seeing something of you now and then. We had not then recovered from the shock. It appeared highly probable to her that he would stop her allowance. 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. The evening breeze came; the bamboo shades on the veranda clicked and rasped; the loose edges of the manuscript curled. She took a shower after a particularly harsh volleyball debacle only to find that her locker had been picked and her outfit of the day, gray sweatpants and a shapeless pink sweater, were gone.
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