I have suffered too much from your treachery. " There was a pause. You are my Sir Galahad, so faithful and true that it is a wonder you exist. You are my prisoner, murderer. "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. You do not know him. Take care of the old clothesman, and leave the rest to me. Since she was only seventeen when she had them, she didn’t deal with it very well.
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