The first stroke appeared to arouse all the vindictive passions of Jonathan. She put a stool for him at a little distance from her own, and after he had seen the day’s work he hesitated, and then plunged into a resumption of their discussion about beauty. A slow heavy thumping started up in Melusine’s chest, and she scarcely took in the astonished silence in those present in the room. On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha.
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