He worried me to marry him. 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. For a pity, she has chosen to remain, and it has been her death. Supposing he too wanted love and his arms were as empty as hers? Some living thing that depended upon her. He must be gone to dispose of the body.
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