There would be ultimate misery, but it would be needless cruelty to give her a push toward it. 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 was painfully in earnest, too. She covered herself with her arms. “Be careful,” Lucy cautioned Michelle as she sidestepped a two by four studded with upturned nails.
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