Then she went into the office. Wood strained his eyes to catch a glimpse of the flying skiff. On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha. White. “I wonder if they will seem altered,” she remarked for the third time. It began in the eyes and spread to the lips: warm, embracing, even fatherly. ‘It is the life I know. " "Oh!" exclaimed the widow, covering her face with her hands. He turned irresolutely to the table upon which lay the scattered leaves of his old manuscripts.
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