Don't you remember? There were four of us, and we went touring in the city. " "To-morrow will be too late," said Sheppard, moodily. If he did resemble me, I shouldn't care about him. On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha. He was reaching wearily for some kind of buffer to his harrying conscience. The queer phase of the dream was this, she was at no time a woman; she was symbolical of something, and he followed to learn what this something was.
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