‘Though we might have done, if a certain addlepated clothhead hadn’t let her get away. 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. ” Drummond looked up with mock eagerness. He seemed to be thinking hard. I want to hammer myself against all this that pens women in. Ruth felt his hand grow cold as it slipped from hers.
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