She was afraid people would follow her, she was afraid of the dark, open doorways she passed, and afraid of the blazes of light; she was afraid to be alone, and she knew not what it was she feared. " "Not a farthing more, I assure you," rejoined Ireton, pettishly; "we're all on the square here. You’ll come along of me, for you’re under arrest, too. On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha. “You have put all your life in my hands,” he declared.
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