These were so outside her experience that she found it possible to thrust them almost out of sight by saying they would be “all right” in confident tones to herself. There stepped forth a tall brown man. . There was no such a thing as perfection in a mixed world. He wore a battered sunhelmet, a loin-cloth and a pair of dilapidated canvas shoes. The tree-lined streets were silent except for the sporadic revving of glass packs down Church Avenue.
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