"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. Gerald sympathised with his friend’s irritation. We all have to kow-tow to that. It was a perfect windless spring day, a Sunday. Water I need. “You can count upon me, Nigel,” she said. " "Mad as you are, you're the more sensible of the two, I must say," rejoined Jonathan. “I shot him. The months that followed September spiraled downward.
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