Wood," said the lady bridling up, "my request may, perhaps, have some weight with you. 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. It was the girl. Ramage seemed always fencing about the forbidden topic, probing for openings, and she wondered why she did not give him them. ‘I don’t know what the devil you’re talking about. Everything was done in the most legal and imposing way, but the whole thing was a fraud. Lucy tried not to notice the starched smell, overpowering and powdery. You’re a lady.
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