But if I were dying of thirst, in a desert, I would not accept a cup of water at her hands. Too busy. “Because you used to be my friend, Lucy, and now I don’t get to see you anymore unless I can get into your house. You will do as I say, or—’ ‘Hoy!’ called Trodger from down the hall. “I had those beautiful roses from you on my first night, and a tiny little note but no address. Under happier circumstances nothing would have given me more pleasure than to have offered you a home with your sister. One day I can be a Gothic chick, and the next day I’ll be Hitler Youth. A crisis had been reached, and she was almost glad it had been reached. One or two landladies refused her with an air of conscious virtue that she found hard to explain. 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. That he received guests of the name of Valade at all would have surprised anyone who knew his history.
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