"I think I may trust him with you, Sir," added she, taking up the candle. To his relief, Mrs Sindlesham stepped into the breach, grasping her cane and rising painfully from her chair. 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. But heavens, I must pack!” She sprang to her feet and disappeared in the room beyond, from which she emerged a few minutes later with flushed cheeks and dishevelled hair. “Not at all. I doubt I hold any interest for him anymore. Activity in the hall intensified. "Flying fish. The Well Hole.
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