On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha. Stanley wanted to object strongly, but as he could not immediately think how to put it, he contented himself with a grunt, and the motion was carried. Probably the latter, for the thronging ballroom was insufferably hot. Care for a hundred up?” Ennison shook his head. “You must play for us again sometime. This was the first young man who had drawn from her something more than speculative interest.
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