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. Loneliness—something that was almost physical: as if the vitality had been taken out of the air she breathed. Who but you would have dreamed of giving the boy such a name? Why, it's the name of a river, not a Christian. ” Part 6 In the afternoon she resumed her search for apartments.
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