"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. Here she walked more slowly, looking constantly at the notices in the shop windows. One group at the door attracted Jack's attention, inasmuch as it was composed of several of his old acquaintances—Mr. Larry kept digging heartily into his spaghetti, not intrigued in the slightest. Probably she mistook you; probably she thought you cared. This was enough for the poor widow.
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