"Not a syllable," replied Wild. She bent down. 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. She flared her upper lip, baring her canines which had extended by half an inch. But the first one was brought home, and it was the beginning of the end. "Be ruled by me," returned Thames. The weed was all right. She thought she had hidden well from him.
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