’ She halted, her pistol still held firm and straight, both hands gripping it, her expressive features at once determined and uncertain. "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. "If I were so, I should not be here," returned Trenchard. Mom, this is Lucy Albert from school. ” He was strangely silent.
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