"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. But kill me rather than commit this outrage. ” She laughed at him easily and mirthfully. He saw it in book-covers, on the stage. “But I am at singing-pitch. Once she reached the bamboo curtain, clutched at it and tore it down as his arms went around her waist.
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