The bungalows and stores were built of heavy bamboo and gum-wood; sprawly, one-storied affairs; for the typhoon was no stranger in these waters. On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha. Her foster father had been outside for most of the morning, working on trimming the maple trees and mowing the lawn. He passed, and came loitering back and stood beside her, silently looking into her face.
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