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But she had found it very difficult. She had a bittersweet fragrance, like dusty books and honeysuckle. But I must—I ought—” “I MUST talk about this. Where the devil have you hidden all those weapons? Don’t tell me you’ve got ’em with you. Then his tiny bow mouth opened into an adoring smile. 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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