E. She was surprised at his modesty. Larry kept digging heartily into his spaghetti, not intrigued in the slightest. On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha. “You little wretch!” she exclaimed weakly. “To the best of my belief, I have not a single English acquaintance in the city. ’ ‘Who’s bleeding to death?’ demanded Trodger.
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