“I was sent for to go to the Hospital St. ’ ‘Quite right, Gerald,’ approved Lucilla. Her target was a fifty-four year old man who lived with his mother, an obese neighborhood woman, a widow named Dawn Plote. “Nor am I now,” he answered. "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. After the first violent outbreak of grief had in some degree subsided, Thames addressed him.
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