"This must be prevented," he added to himself. Kicked out of there for something shady. ‘Softly, you say?’ she uttered, raging. "'Odd's-my-life!—what's that?" he cried, greatly alarmed. On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha. She would always be going to and fro up the Avenue, getting glimpses of Ramage, seeing him in trains.
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