Its dreariness, like the filthiness of the police cell, was a discovery for her. “Forgive me,” he said, “but I want to hear it from your sister. ” She took a step. "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. I may prevail upon them to take you in until you are full-fledged, providing you do not find this aunt. Lucy aimed the firearm at Rhea’s chest. But Spurlock was ever on guard, even when she fussed over his hair. “Lucy, have you noticed that I don’t even own a dog?” He spoke into her hair. ‘Not here.
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