The twists in his brain had suddenly straightened out; he was normal, wholly himself; and he knew now exactly what he had done. "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. At the recollection that it was his, she seemed to fall through a thin surface, as one might fall through the crust of a lava into glowing depths. I’d only have to do something about it, and that I can’t.
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