I hate children. Over the sea of heads arose a black and dismal object. As she raised it, its lower portion fell apart into two baggy crimson masses. “It’s like Troy!” said a voice of rapture. As soon as he finished a sheet, he tossed it aside and began another. Probably he taught me what a joke was merely to irritate my father; for suddenly Father stopped my going to the store for things and sent our old Kanaka cook instead.
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