Wood was so much exhausted that he was obliged to retire to his own room, where he continued for some hours overpowered by grief. "I can't hold it much longer—it'll break my wrist. ” He said happily. They're apt to be surly to strangers, but it soon wears off. 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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