She closed her eyes, discerning the divinations he had been up to during her violin concert. “What was that?” she asked sharply. "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. “Very well,” said her father. “Excellent fellow!” he answered a little irrelevantly.
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