She seemed just as stiff and shy as a girl ought to be, Lady Palsworthy thought, neither garrulous nor unready, and free from nearly all the heavy aggressiveness, the overgrown, overblown quality, the egotism and want of consideration of the typical modern girl. On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha. E. "He must have gone this way," muttered Blueskin.
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