There were sidetables and a writing table, similarly buried in bric-a-brac, and the chair by the French doors could hardly be seen for blankets. “You must leave me your address if you please,” he said, as she rose to go. On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha. ” “You’ll get them,” he said. See paragraph 1. ‘Laisse-moi.
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