The others hurried to the window. 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. "But, pardon my intrusion. Bête, she told herself fiercely. “He has asked to see some one,” he whispered to the doctor. Think—think of that engagement!” Their talk had come to eloquent silences that contradicted all he had to say.
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