He moved, after quiet intervals, with a quick little movement, and ever and again stroked his small mustache and coughed a selfconscious cough. Miss Mary and me, and Martha too sometimes. “But you’re wrong. I find you were excessively brave, mon pauvre. "That I can't say. 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.
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