And yet, the doctor recalled an expression of the girl's: that it was not a dissipated face, only troubled. He disappeared into its thick doors like a magician’s rabbit. ‘I may have been only a secretary, but times are changing. The lady's name's engraved inside, but so small I can scarcely read it. “Thank you. “Ye Gods!” she said at last. He learnt that his sister was privately married—the name or rank of her husband could not be ascertained—and living in retirement in an obscure dwelling in the Borough, where she had given birth to a son. 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.
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