" "How?" "Listen to me, Thames. My poor brain is so mixed, dear, I hardly know what I am saying. ‘I don’t want that girl running her head into any more danger. "Do better in future. She looked in the glass over and over as she checked for lint and makeup streaks. "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.
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