I'm ashamed to say that I was too much terrified to scream out—but ran and hid myself. On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha. The afternoon had passed now into twilight. She was a schizophrenic, got locked up later in some sort of state mental ward. CHAPTER XV. These sham ideals and advanced notions. Ain't we, partner?" he added, appealing to Langley, whom punch had made rather dozy. Ruth returned to the table. The blinds were all drawn, the sunlight kept out, one could not tell what colors these gray swathings hid. And now, when you come at last, you bring me this grandfather, and you dare to tell me I am like him.
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