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It was not that I feared the results which would follow a general belief that I had returned from the Barsoomian heaven or hell, or whatever it was.
"Why shouldn't I be a baby?" murmured George.
When he put his tools aside as useless, until morning, Mr. Lorry rose and said to him:
So they looked at big ones and little ones--at dolls with black eyes and dolls with blue--at dolls with brown curls and dolls with golden braids, dolls dressed and dolls undressed.
