Hot coffee and cakes were sent in to them in the morning by some intelligent sympathizer, or she would have starved all day. She had never thought of him at all in that way before. 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. Nature is a mother; her sympathies have always been feminist, and she has tempered the man to the shorn woman. ” She spoke rather quickly, because she found her father’s question the most awkward she had ever had to answer in her life.
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