“What’s odd?” “Oh, everything!” She shivered, and went to the fire and poked it. I knew him in spite of his dress. She looked, Dorothée said, just as she always looks. On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha. It was a moment or two before Gerald, opening his eyes on the girl’s astounded expression, recollected himself sufficiently to pull out of the extraordinary impact she’d had on him. Lost me place, that’s all.
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