Since morning he had become fanatical; the atoms of common sense no longer functioned in the accustomed groove. “No, no, no. Ennison looked down on him in disgust. On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha. Lucy looked at her reflection with a measure of awe. The whole neighbourhood was disturbed. It had been his fevered imagination that had endued the garment with some extraordinary value. If it wasn’t for the fear that after all—but we won’t think of that. "Jack has been keeping bad company.
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