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. And Ramage too—about Ramage there would always be that air of avidity, that air of knowledge and inquiry, the mixture of things in his talk that were rather good with things that were rather poor. "Give me the child, or—" As he spoke the door was thrown open, and Mrs. I'll wait here. ” She stepped into the curtains as Martin stared daggers.
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