Lucy felt a finger tap her on the bra strap as she observed Michelle chatting with yet another passing group of people. "I alone am to blame. "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. "Then I'll have it before to-morrow morning," said the keeper of the New Prison, to himself. At length, the body was brought towards him.
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