Arrived at the audience-chamber, he set down the light upon a stand, threw open the door, and announced in a loud voice, but with the perfect intonation of the person he represented,—"Sir Rowland Trenchard. He gave Valade the go-ahead and they’ve gone off to visit him. On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha. There were groves of cultivated guava, orange, lemon, and pomegranate. She had once reconciled in her mind that she was happy as long as she had him.
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