Her father held some printed document in his hand, and appeared not to observe her entry. 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. A small handgun bobbed at the end of it, aimed at Sheila. ” She pointed to the envelope still resting upon the mantelpiece. . That is what terrified her: the consciousness that nothing in her life would be continuous, that she would no sooner form friendships (like the present) than relentless fate would thrust her into a new circle. ” “Except,” said Constance, surveying her work with her head on one side, “to keep the matches from the litter.
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