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. It slid off flimsily. ’ A radiant smile dawned. ” She looked into her glass. Restlessness, then, was the trouble, simple restlessness: home bored her. She felt pride sashay into her thoughts. “Cheveney wouldn’t have anything to say about it, as it happens,” he remarked, a little grimly. That was the inconvenience of it; her head was swimming. I’ll walk over there once I change clothes. You called yourself a murderess. I’ve got too much work.
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