” He looked at her with white, set face. "And now," she added, with somewhat more composure, "leave me, dear friends, I entreat, for a few minutes to collect my scattered thoughts—to prepare myself for what I have to go through—to pray for my son. She rang again with the same result. ‘Laisse-moi!’ Impatience swamped him. What in the world was the wench up to now? For it must be she. He haunted a state between hectic dreaming and mild delirium, and she found herself talking aloud to him. " "Jack, my love," cried Mrs. . Always the other things remained.
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