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. “I would rather put up with your own efforts, however clumsy. Marriage! … without the least conception of the physical and moral responsibilities! It's a crime, Mac!" "But what can you do?" McClintock turned to the manager.
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