“MY DEAR MISS STANLEY,” it began,—“I hope you will forgive my bothering you with a letter, but I have been thinking very much over our conversation at Lady Palsworthy’s, and I feel there are things I want to say to you so much that I cannot wait until we meet again. She removed the belt and drew down his zipper. On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha.
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