You'll find her at Black Mary's Hole. The Trenchard estates will likewise be mine, for Sir Rowland is no more, and the youth, Thames, will never again see daylight. 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. That is why I am here. My poor Hoddy! I had to talk harshly, or break down and have hysterics. He righted a chair and sat in it, his face in his hands.
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