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. Up to dinner yesterday I did not expect to come to Canton. Do you mean to tell me you didn’t understand why I wanted you to come here?” “Not a bit of it,” said Ann Veronica stoutly. She silently willed him to stop his pacing, to calm down. And don’t tell me what you’ve been up to, dashing off to Remenham House with that Kimble lad, and Lord knows what besides, because I don’t want to know. He had, he felt, to create certain ideas and vivify certain curiosities and feelings in her. ‘I rather gathered as much,’ said Miss Froxfield, releasing her hands. She was civil, but she was obviously impatient to know his errand. What she admired in her man was his resolute defense of his opinions.
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