But when she was thinking it over in her room that evening vague and baffling doubts came drifting across this conviction. "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. " "I see. "He will kill me," cried Thames. She regarded him coldly, as though wondering whether he had anything further to say. It—it is nothing,’ she said, although with a tremor in her voice. Let me say it to you. The Northern Ocean keeps a secret better than the Thames, Sir Rowland. After all, the Wastrel was in luck: he was alone. Why don’t you just tell me what is going on with you! Why the police questioned you! Why they’re looking for your mother? I’ll understand! Just tell me and I swear to God Lucy I’ll understand.
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