‘There are no Remenhams left. 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. He shut his eyes and groped for the wall to steady himself, wondering if this bit of mummery would get over. Days later, Sebastian found her by the lake, sobbing. ToC London, at the period of this history, boasted only a single bridge.
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