Hanging on the wall was a temple censer, bronze, moulded in the shape of a lotus blossom with stem and leaves—deadly as a club. " Her utterance was here choked by sobs. “Turned out to be an impostor, too. Sheppard, smiling through her tears. She plucked at the knots of her racket and heard him to the end, then spoke in a restrained undertone. I mean I’m not a good specimen of a woman.
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