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. ’ ‘Oh, do they?’ Gerald said, sudden wrath kindling. “You’ve been sneaking out just as often as Mary Lucia. It belonged to his father, and was worn by him on the night he was murdered. She was noisy and hilarious and enthusiastic, and her hair was always abominably done.
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