"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. He started a dozen stories, but they all ended in the waste-basket. This is one of the late E. ’ Gerald hissed in a doubtful breath. ” Lucy replied. Indeed, I've heard him say that, but for his wife, he would shelter her under his own roof. She often found herself absorbed by watching the tall grass undulate from the cave’s central doorway as solitary hunters prowled for buffalo and stag on the plain.
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