He nodded. He knocked on the doorframe. \"What's your number?\" Michelle asked Lucy. And she had been doubting since that walk in the Zoological Gardens whether, indeed, he did simply care for her. 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. I know my son's voice too well. ‘When you’re my age, you’ll be just as hardheaded.
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