" "No more of this," interrupted Thames, "you make the matter worse by these excuses. "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. I don’t half disagree with you, Vee, really; only thing is, I don’t see how you’re going to pull it off. I learned of your betrothal, gleaned all the information I could simply by eavesdropping. Books! Aren't they wonderful?" The blind alley of life stretching out before her, with its secret doorways and hidden menaces; and she was unconcerned. Then, as he was trying to bite through the rope, I told him, ‘That’s for 107 Traci, motherfucker.
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