“The young lady, I presume, told you that her name was Anna,” he remarked. Through it all Spurlock maintained a gaiety which deceived them completely. On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha. He was content to watch her accepting compliments and gaudy bouquets full of red roses, white carnations, and purple statice. ’ ‘Woof!’ uttered the sergeant, jumping back. I did not care—no woman really cares—to play the beggar maid to your King Cophetua.
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