“I am sure, Anna,” she said, “I do not see why we should conceal the truth from you. Men ought not to idealize any woman. Lucy stared at the girl for a long ten seconds, and then looked away. On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha. He could not move; but stood like one stupified, with his hands clasped together, and eyes almost starting out of their sockets, fixed upon his unfortunate parent. Annabel entered. What’s your name?” He asked in return.
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