"Wet your whistle before you start, Jack," said Kneebone, pouring out a glass of ale. 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. They became aware of the waitress standing over them with book and pencil ready for their bill. \" Lucy felt the familiar warmth surge upward from her crotch. ’ ‘No, I wouldn’t have believed you. His only warning was a gleam of silver in the faint spill of light from the house above.
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