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 should lose every scrap of independence—even my self-respect. ‘As to Gérard, I do not know why he does this. “Rummy lot we are!” said Roddy. . “She has improved her style,” someone declared. You know what's what. I didn’t understand before that letter.
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