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. “He couldn’t look me in the face and say it,” said Ann Veronica. ‘Do not mix yourself in mine, and perhaps you will not die. “Did I do something wrong?” He asked. "Not the sort of stories young ladies should read. “Gods!” cried Ann Veronica, and kept him standing. ’ ‘What, a common soldier?’ ‘He was not a common soldier.
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