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. Among the commercial enticements McClintock found a real letter. "What have you got there in your breast—a stone? Is there blood or water in your veins?" The dam broke, but not with violence. " "May I trust you?" hesitated Thames.
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