On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha. It was a bizarre sight, a miniature manor, replicated fully, walled in gray limestone. Hill closed his eyes. A crutch, with a silver handle, stood by her side, proving the state of extreme debility to which she was reduced. “Beasts!” But Miss Miniver took no notice of his admission. ‘But you are idiot. My appearance is genuinely altered for the better.
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