At the Palazzo she had been confined to her own sunny windowed quarters most of the time, but she had the entire run of the inside of the manor. ‘She won’t like it,’ prophesied the captain gloomily. 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 doctor frowned. “Stop this—this humbugging,” he explained.
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