It was a great weight from her shoulders to confide in another human being, and she suspected he did truly believe her. "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. Yet she held her tongue. "I was born in the South Seas and I am on my way to America, to an aunt. She could almost smell her mother’s attar of white roses and lemon verbena with the memory of the story.
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