Annabel thought, and thought again. "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. A diversion was created by the violent struggles of the little old lady. Why had he kissed her? What had led him into that? Neither love nor passion— utter blankness so far as reducing the act to terms. She were that miserable. " To-morrow! She never beheld it.
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