“I’d have to be blown up into a thousand pieces. 'Mrs. F. The characters of the youthful occupants of the room might be detected in every article it contained. On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha. ‘I didn’t mean to hurt you so badly,’ he said, still meeting her eyes, unaware that his hold about her hand had tightened a little.
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