On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha. ” She looked at him; his face, downcast and in profile, was handsome and strong. "Rowland," she said, in a faint voice, "I have not many minutes to live. \" He had caught her in a moment of weakness; the hunger had made her emotional! She felt a terrible warmth surge from her loins. “Take my advice,” he said hoarsely.
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