‘What do you mean?’ ‘You have papers of identity, for the Mother Abbess told me so. But I’m always trying to make things happen. 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. But it strikes me there's a nigger in the woodpile somewhere, as you Yankees say. At length he proceeded toward McClintock's bungalow, drawn by the lights and the sound of music. Puffy blue curtains dressed every oakstained window.
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