” His voice sounded muffled and heavy, as if he had gone to bed. And yet, at the end of this prayer a subconscious thought broke through to consciousness. Ramage?” he asked. "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. "Set down the kid," roared Blueskin, savagely. She regarded the young man coldly.
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