He turned. ’ ‘Woof!’ Sergeant Trodger’s eyes fairly popped out of his head, and he seized his prisoner’s arm again. . ‘That there governess didn’t like it, of course, me being the lodgekeeper’s girl, and Martha just a country wench like me. On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha. He’s the handle of life for you. We have only those phantoms called memories, which are the husks of dreams.
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