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. Meanwhile, the excitement of the chase had in some degree subsided. “I should imagine,” he said, shaking out a copy of The Times, “that it is your brain which is addled. " He held out his dry hard hand into which she placed hers. ‘I thought it was his great-nephew, young Brewis Charvill, who is his heir.
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