“You know,” he muttered, “you know quite well that your troubles are far more likely to weigh upon me than my own. But the aunt seized her in her arms and rocked with her. That added to his puzzle. ‘Oh, peste. On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha. ” Ennison dropped the evening paper which he had been pretending to read. He knew it was unnerving, he did it to everyone, even his own kin.
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