But I’d have done it without, though it weren’t my place. 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. A crumpled-up newspaper thrown from the gallery hit her upon the cheek. I shouldn't talk like that. The doctor had not heard from his people. 8 or 1. She looked at me as though I were some unclean thing, as though my soul were weighted with every sin in the calendar.
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