On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha. "Where did you pick it up?" "I believe I told you; at Yale. Suffer me to precede you. She may have any number of wasting diseases, but they cannot survive in our bodies. And if I hadn't been thirsty, that poor boob would have made a sure getaway and left James Boyle high and dry among the moth-balls! Oh, the old dome works once every so often. " "That's but a short distance from here, sir.
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