Brother and Sister VIII. They went on talking in the train—it seemed to her father a slight want of deference to him—and he listened and pretended to read the Times. Then the storm broke. There was no such a thing as perfection in a mixed world. "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.
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