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A faint gleam of returning colour gave her at once a more natural appearance. “And so you have been thinking?” her father began, quoting her letter and looking over his slanting glasses at her. “I’m sorry Mister McCloskey! I was out seeing my boyfriend!” He stared at her concernedly. I am determined to fight my own little battle with the world —there must be a place for me somewhere, and I mean to find it. 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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