The signal of distress was evidently understood. 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. They'll be back soon enough—or not at all. I hardly see you anymore. “No you don’t!” said Ann Veronica, and walked out at a brisk and businesslike pace toward the house. “How old are you?” “Sixteen.
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