On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha. I will have nothing to do with you. "Oh God!" exclaimed Jack, in a tone of the bitterest anguish. " "Unpossible, master," rejoined Ben; "the tide's running down like a mill-sluice, and the wind's right in our teeth. “I can only be a few years older than you, and I have been married four years. That is why I ask you.
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