” “Ye—e—es. I want to fill it with fine and precious things. But his glance roved, to the door through which Ruth had gone, to Enschede's drooping back. "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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