The girl only smiled at him serenely, but she laid her hand for a moment quietly upon his. On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha. Some man! And to conclude it all was the figure of her father in the doorway, giving her a last chance, his hat in one hand, his umbrella in the other, shaken at her to emphasize his point. ‘Couldn’t even trouble to make a pretence of motherhood.
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