Then Courtlaw looked across at her with a white puzzled face. " "Are you sure of that," inquired Jackson. “I believe,” he said, “that you mean me to be Prime Minister. Fresh ground, no chicory, and all the rest of it. ’ ‘What about this Leonardo fellow?’ Hilary asked, still frowning heavily. Befuddle yourself, if you want to. "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.
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