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. She was always initiating petty breaches of discipline. And if I don’t, I go mad. If I could but——” To escape from her thoughts she began to undress, humming a light tune to herself, though her eyes were hot with unshed tears, and the sobs kept rising in her throat. When Sheila was in a good mood, one almost enjoyed her. What he intended to do with it is of little consequence now. . It was open.
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