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. “Nevertheless,” Hill said doggedly, “I am here to speak to you alone. No one. But I liked to say it. "Hold!" cried Kneebone, flinging down the packets; "they are nothing to me.
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