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. “There was a keg, hash, LSD, pot, you know, the usual. "How would you like a job on a copra plantation?" he asked, irrelevantly to the thoughts crowding one another in his mind. He appeared to be a stranger to the prisoner, and the sole motive of his visit, curiosity. But did Gerald trouble himself about her? No. ” Lucy grew hot. He had said so.
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