Terror had laid a paralyzing hand upon her, fear kept her almost unconscious of the curious glances which she was continually attracting. 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. Still, there certainly was something in the idea of a treaty. But he died when he was a child—long ago—long ago—long ago. Ruth was something to study for future copy; she was almost unbelievable.
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