"Noblemen. "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. ‘How could you? No wonder mademoiselle is angry with you. "You'll feel better after it. She found herself alone in the train asking herself what she must do next, and trying not to think of herself as cut off from home or any refuge whatever from the world she had resolved to face. He's down in Patagonia somewhere.
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