Annabel half filled her glass with wine, and taking a little folded packet from her plate, shook the contents into it. 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. Full as she was of him, it felt good to shower her kill out of her hair. . Kneebone," returned Shotbolt.
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