‘Why do you think I told you about the portrait? I’d not seen it, of course, but I’d seen Miss Mary just before she got married, which is when it was painted. And now she was witnessing or observing the complicated machinery of civilization through which they had come, at length to land on the beach of her island. Pity he's ta'en to bad ways so airly. A married man!—the kind I've never been able to lure down there! But keep your temper in check. Before our marriage there will be no life between you and the estates. And now you are acting the cuckold, because I do not wish to waste my seed in your barren womb?\" She was too devastated to answer him. “Do you need me to tell you? You have tasted the luxury of power. 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. He drifted in and out of consciousness.
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