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. And Leonardo told me never to trust any man. “Is Coke okay?” He asked as he pulled into the gas station. “You are their friend, then?” “I am,” Courtlaw answered. Stanley considered. On some insane score she fancied she had to state her case in verse.
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