A. "Mother—dear mother!" said Jack, bursting into tears. "The devil you have!" thundered a voice from behind, that filled the apprentice with dismay. The knowledge breathed into her heart a satisfying warmth. His head bent down, intent on kissing her underneath the showerhead. 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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