‘You talk together of me as if I am not there. On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha. I do not care in the least. . She had looked up from her seat at the small round table in the centre of the parlour which, together with the wooden armchairs beside the small fireplace, and a sideboard next the single casement, was all the furniture the place afforded. ” “And our destinations also, it seems,” she added, smiling. ‘And that object confirms me in the belief that it is not I who will shortly meet my maker.
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