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Her shoulders were gripped hard and a familiar voice spoke. ‘Jacques,’ she said, turning to the lad, and holding the habit out, ‘take this for me and leave it in the passage where we have left the lantern. 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. ” This made her even angrier, so she stopped speaking to him for a week. There was a bare chance that he had been mistaken.
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