Sensing his discomfort, she stood up and brushed lint off of the hem of her gray miniskirt. 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. The minute he discovers Roding here, he’ll know something is up. I next proceeded to Jenny Bunch's, the Ship, in Trig Lane—there I got the same answer. Gerald took Madame’s hand and kissed the fingers with a little more warmth than punctilio demanded.
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