"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. Sheppard. “Were you ever in love, aunt?” she asked. “Is Miss Stanley coming up with us?” “I go second,” she said, “and change at Wimbledon. ” “It was an inspiration—your speaking to him?” “I felt impudent. And let us go on with our evening. Glad to get back, I’m sure,” he said briskly. She pulled, he rose to his feet. Come to take leave.
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