" "I promise to ask no more. The daughters, he had hoped, would be their mother’s care. The Palazzo was unlike anything she had ever known. I don’t mean I’m not a good woman—I mean that I’m not a GOOD woman. " "My poor son!" groaned the widow, sinking backwards. . 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. The swelling in his limbs had also subsided.
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