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" "You hear, my son," said the widow eagerly. "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. Lucy felt a finger tap her on the bra strap as she observed Michelle chatting with yet another passing group of people. In one of these seats, at the end of the aisle farthest removed from the chancel, the widow took her place, and addressed herself fervently to her devotions.
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