Sheppard, who had again looked round towards her son, beheld a hand glance along the side of the woollendraper. After several vain attempts to burst it open, he resolved, as a last alternative, to break through the wall in the part nearest to the lock. 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 want to speak to you. " "I can't exactly say, Sir Rowland.
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