On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha. ‘All this gadding about. I believe that the common report was that you and your sister had come to Paris to study painting. ’ ‘She?’ scoffed Martha. The boy had all kinds of opportunity; but it's the old story of father making it too easy. "But to drag this innocent child into the muck! With her head full of book nonsense—love stories and fairy stories! Have you any idea of the tragedy she is bound to stumble upon some day? I don't care about you.
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