Lucy did not move, but instead stared straight forward, her eyes focused on the desk where the presiding teacher on duty was supposed to be. In a little while he and she were talking quite easily and agreeably. ‘Your wife?’ ‘My wife,’ he repeated, rising also, his smile mocking her. On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha. My boys buy them with beads or bolts of calico of mine. I have been dreaming of your body and you night after night.
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