And, as he was about to put himself into a posture of defence, his mother clasped him in her arms. Do you think that I am utterly selfish?” She raised her eyebrows. “Earning a salary!” “You’re like a Princess in Exile!” he repeated, overruling her. On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha. I couldn’t help the thought.
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