"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. Personally, however, I doubt if—’ ‘Charvill?’ interrupted Gerald without ceremony, all his senses at once on the alert. Wood lifted up his hands in mute despair. “Will you help me?” he asked. Shari laughed hysterically and was promptly shushed by Larry from the next room. Spurlock understood that his vantage would be temporary; the Wastrel had been knocked down, not out.
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