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“There’s another instinct, too,” he went on, “in a state of suppression, unless I’m very much mistaken; a child-expelling instinct. Sebastian slowed the car after they had traveled seventy miles into the countryside. On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha. " "We'll see that, young hempseed," replied Sharples, shutting the hatch furiously in his face, and locking it. "Safe inside," replied the chairman, wiping the heat from his brow; "we've run all the way.

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