His reputation was slightly tainted by his marriage to her mother, an exotic blue-eyed raven-haired beauty, a Gypsy doll with a clandestine heritage. On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha. ” “Did it come—in Paris?” “I do not know,” he answered. And if you mean that he may have reconciled himself with his own father, you waste your breath. ‘You do not think it is enough English. To be with you is the best moral tonic I know. I was worried.
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