So far as the eye could reach, the white level road, with its fringe of elm-trees, was empty. The bridge was open. Would it be Thérèse?’ She shook her head. . ’ Total bullshit, if you ask me. It said: Got news for you about J. I dare not reflect upon the effect that her son's fate,—if the efforts to save him are ineffectual,—may have upon her enfeebled frame, and still worse upon her mind. Don't build your hopes too high; but I will do what I can.
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