Michelle walked up the concrete porch steps, gesturing to Lucy to do the same. Her eyes travelled about the room as if in appeal to the very chairs. "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. His eyes were bright with the hunt. All we do is for your good. “Anna!” she repeated. It was cheating, pitiful cheating.
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