Austin could scarcely credit his senses when he beheld him. On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha. Probably some woman on the loose; they were as thick as flies over here—dizzy blondes. She began to tremble violently. Yet in some hidden corner was a vein of sentiment, of which for the first time in his later life he was now unexpectedly aware.
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