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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. She had arranged for a supper of tea, a boiled egg, and some tinned peaches. Here was not the individual against whom she had been warned. Kind of knows it, too. "I see him!—row for your life!" "That's the way to miss him, master," replied Ben coolly. They were so good to me.
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