" "Uh-huh. Then a surge of rage welled up. You see, the horse it does not belong to me, nor to the nuns. 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. The heroism of two beach combers had saved all on board and their own manhood as well. Once or twice she commented upon it, but she knew that it was resultant of his fear of her impending departure. Brown broke the silence. And if one were to love some one very much, it’s just so that one would be blindest, just when one wanted most to see. “Of course,” she said diffidently, “this is a boarding-house, although we never take in promiscuous travellers.
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