He had never liked to be hugged, but she wondered if his corporeal needs would be made apparent by human touch. There must be persons tender and loving in this world. 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. She looked up and said, a little breathlessly, “I’m sorry, aunt, but I don’t think I can.
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