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. “I won’t have you quarrelling and crying in the Avenue,” he said. The watcher's intake of breath was sibilant. Kneebone began to dispense the fragrant fluid; begging Mrs. " Jonathan made no answer, but snatching a torch from a bystander, jumped into the trench and commenced a diligent search. If you do not help me to read the riddle of yourself, Annabel, I think that very soon I shall be a candidate for the asylum.
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