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Water poured into her eyes, nose, and mouth in a torrent from which she had to turn and wheeze. ” “By God!” said Manning, making the most of the word, “I suppose it’s fate. "But we'll find a way to make you open your lips presently. She stumbled through a thorny copse, her slippers sliding on patches of sand that gave way to rock. On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha.
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