There was the same airy grace of movement, the same deep brown hair and alabaster skin. 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. Anna herself opened the hall door. . ‘I must, for that the pig has already gone to monsieur le baron. Generations had been born and died in between the times she had gotten laid.
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