Page:Vance--The rass bowl.djvu/334

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THE BRASS BOWL

In the outer room a clock was ticking. Unconsciously she moved to the doorway and stood looking for a time at the white, expressionless dial. It was some time—a minute or two—before she deciphered the hour.

Ten minutes past two! … Ah, the lifetime she had lived in the past seventy minutes! And the futility of it all!

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