They parked a block away from Michelle’s house in the opposite direction of where the Beck’s lived. I do not wish to return to Paris. "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. "Give me your hand, Poll, to help me through," cried Jack, as he accomplished the operation. “Call me Cathy, John.
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