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. Beneath the serene unconcern of Ann Veronica’s face was a boiling tumult. ” A sudden sense of the gravity of this thing came home to Anna. "I declare you throw me into an ague. “In Paris our lives were far apart, and we had seldom the same friends.
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