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 south-east end of the island was hillocky, with volcanic subsoil. She meant to go, she meant to go, she meant to go. He had not had time to aim the pistol. "Is it by lettin' you go, my darlin', that I'm to airn it?" inquired Terence. "A drunken idea," said Ah Cum, taking his hands out of his sleeves.
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