"Now's your time," cried Blueskin, struggling desperately with his assailants and inflicting severe cuts with his knife. She had Cathy’s predisposition to overweight and her hips were solid and thick under her jeans. For if the likeness between the sisters was remarkable, the likeness between this girl and the poster which he had come from studying was more remarkable still. 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. Good night.
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