She had reason enough to be grateful to Prudence Sindlesham and it was not fair that this horrible feeling of loneliness should be made known to her. On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha. Water soaked her through in five minutes. She wanted to think of him as her beloved person, to be near him and watch him, to have him going about, doing this and that, saying this and that, unconscious of her, while she too remained unconscious of herself.
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