He beheld a tall gaunt man, his brown face corrugated like a winter's road, grim, stony. 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. There was scant social life on the Sha-mien aside from masculine foregatherings, little that interested him. Her heart failed her and her resolution became water. She would meet him upon this ground: he should never be given the slightest hint that she was unhappy. " CHAPTER XV. I could not love you else.
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