"For me—his master, Mr. ‘Didn’t mean to say that. 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 have healed and I am still your wife!\" She looked at him desperately, his eyes illuminated by firelight. Manning. Softly she rose to her feet.
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