Some of your sex, I mean. The doctor and another man were by his bedside when they entered the room, and there were writing materials which had evidently been used close at hand. 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. “I only use the weeniest little dab of rouge,” she declared, “and it is really necessary, because I want to get rid of the ‘pallor effect. He wanted to know what the joke against him was—if any. “Why won’t you sleep in my bed tonight, Lucia, where 80 it’s warm?” He asked her one night, teasing but mournful, as she stood in her bedroom doorway in a long white gown. Gerald’s breath caught. He wiped the sweat from his chin and forehead. There was no reason why she shouldn’t be Capes’ friend.
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