” She stirred gently in her chair. For a time she could scarcely believe he was gone. Manning regarded her thoughtfully for a moment and stroked his mustache. " "You are right," replied Darrell; "the weakness is past. My poor brain is so mixed, dear, I hardly know what I am saying. A small voice greeted her, hissing. “And as for praying for faith—this sort of monologue is about as near as any one of my sort ever gets to prayer.
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