“Now,” he said, “no one can blunder in upon us. On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha. “Why don’t you wear your white blouse more often? It is the prettiest shirt you own. She 191 picked up the remote, usurping it of its dividing status between their bodies. Be so good as to let me pass, sir,” she added, looking her obstructor steadily in the face.
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