Cathy rushed out from the kitchen, all smiles, with Lucy behind her. ‘Lawks-a-mussy! It’s Miss Mary. 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. Opening her large black eyes, she fixed them upon him for a moment with a mixture of terror and loathing, and then averted her gaze. Do you want to kill us both? Stop the thing. I don’t idealize you. “Excellent!” he exclaimed.
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