The class laughed, a few putting their hands to their foreheads in a military salute to mock her. On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha. It really isn’t so easy to go as it seems. She felt surges of longing escape every corner of her flesh. . . “But Julian, we don’t even know each other!” She exclaimed. After all, his was a pleasant face, and a pleasant voice, and very likely Annabel had behaved badly.
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