Their chit-chat stopped when they reached the bench. She felt like Snow White in a secret forest house populated by dwarves. "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. He needed to laugh, but only she laughed as he chuckled weakly. ’ To his intense satisfaction, mademoiselle burst into laughter. Apparently I’m not to exist yet. Sheppard was no sooner alone than she fell upon her knees by the side of the couch, and poured forth her heart in prayer. “I mean to,” she replied. ’ She grimaced.
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