" The Wastrel laughed. On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha. At last, he got into a lane, but had not proceeded far when he was again alarmed by the sound of a horse's tread. He was going to tell me something— and he shut up. Abruptly she desisted, recoiled, and turned and fled up-stairs. Earles remarked genially.
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