As she averted her gaze, a terrible idea crossed her. ” For a moment she was grave. 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. “It’s nothing to what I WILL do. None of the things they said and did were altogether new to Ann Veronica, but now she got them massed and alive, instead of by glimpses or in books—alive and articulate and insistent. ” The strain in her face was visible as she tried to remember. She had never felt so cold, she felt even colder than she had in the water.
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