For a while they stood there, silent, motionless, staring at the doorway where still a few strings of the bamboo curtain swayed and twisted, agitated by the Wastrel's passage. He meant to take her out of this room, perhaps even out of the house. Gravely he placed them in his aunt's hand. ’ ‘Now why didn’t I make that connection?’ Gerald asked of the air in a tone of regret. Straitened circumstances would not have mattered; a mother would have managed somehow.
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