Not that it would make any difference if he was alive still. As they passed beneath the thick trees that shade the road to Dollis Hill, the gloom was almost impenetrable. "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. Her hair, once red, faded to a thin gray that she kept cut into a practical short bob.
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