“Why shouldn’t one face the facts of one’s self?” She stood up. Horrors abounded in every passageway as each turn could bring a vision of a poor woman running from her screaming plague-infested son or a bloated corpse of a rich man whose mouth lolled open, showing gaps where someone had pried out a few golden teeth. He was the social order; he was law and wisdom. I saw her come out from the flat buildings two minutes before we entered it last night. "That we were afraid," replied the other; "but never mind her. 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.
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