Wood, who had recovered her good humour, quitted the room she bestowed a hearty embrace on Thames, and she told him laughingly, that she would "defer all she had to propose to him until to-morrow. I had a hunch. On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha. ‘Why did you bring him? I hate him. He laughs at locks and bolts; and the more carefully you guard your premises from him, the more likely are you to insure an attack.
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