I'm one of those unfortunate duffers who have too much imagination—the kind who build their own chimeras and then run away from them. They turned the corner that joined Michelle's street to her own. On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha. "One of us has got to die," he panted. . Apparently he thought it very much worth while. ‘How do you do, my lord? I am Lucilla Froxfield. " "I will die first," replied Mrs.
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