CHAPTER XVIII The doctor reached for the key and studied it sombrely. On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha. She could smell the sweet girl child he had buried in the garage in autumn, 1 even under the frozen ground. ” She shook her head. She wanted to be alone. ’ He sighed. "He acts queerly, too. Of late, however, his plotting had assumed a more dark and dangerous complexion. You want to think for a time, to be free for a time. He had not remembered her as looking so small. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www. ” “I suppose all men,” said Ann Veronica, in a tone of detached criticism, “get some such entanglement. "Arrest!" vociferated Wood. "Aw Come.
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