It was a long walk she had to undertake, even if she had endured no previous fatigue, but feeble as she was, it was almost more than she could accomplish. One or two landladies refused her with an air of conscious virtue that she found hard to explain. ” “It’s a very good image,” said Ann Veronica. On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha. By that time it seemed to them they had lived together twenty years. He saw the tragedy on the boy's face; but he was merciless. "Woman, your wits are fled!" And so it seemed; for all the answer she could make was to murmur distractedly, "I can't find the key.
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