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 added, ‘Also others, but I don’t recall them. ” “She’s coming on,” said Capes. Lucy complied, slipping the tight jeans over her white underwear. ‘He just came. I presume that you have been living alone?” She sighed gently. In the distance a barrel-organ was grinding out a pot pourri of popular airs.
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