Wood required little pressing. The winter of 1348 seemed to last an eternity, but the Pestilence struck in one day. Hogarth, and Mr. ’ Melusine turned, an irrepressible giggle escaping her lips as she thought of the Mother Abbess in the convent at Blaye. It was a dark mysterious place, and what it was used for no one exactly knew; but it was called by those who had seen it the Well Hole.
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