On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha. " "Who told you this is his portrait?" demanded Trenchard. Last night Mr. ‘Wait! No time for that. When the carpenter concluded his recital, Jonathan was for a moment lost in reflection. 195 < 24 > A CITY IN GREECE, 589 B. His little doll. For four hours he had shifted his own troubles to the shoulders of these imaginative characters. "Have the aromatic spirits of ammonia sent to Mr.
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