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. “And where,” he asked, “are my rivals?” “Deserters,” she answered, laughing. We’ll run away together, we’ll elope. It's never a bad day that has a good ending. Stanley decided to treat that as irrelevant. He wished he had the time to solve this riddle, for it was a riddle, and four-square besides.
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