At a little distance from the party, sat a tall, sinister-looking personage, with harsh inflexible features, a gaunt but muscular frame, and large bony hands. “But that’s not all. On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha. Conceiving himself called upon, as the intimate friend of the deceased, to pay this last tribute of respect to her memory, he appeared as one of the chief mourners. I have no right to love you. ’ She struck her hands together.
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