For a long time he stared at the empty doorway. The lad looked alarmed. But she must stop him getting away. He wore a threecornered hat, a sandy-coloured scratch wig, and had a thick woollen wrapper folded round his throat. But always this new phase in life which civilization called convention threw up barrier after barrier. Gerald sighed. There were no doors in the bungalow; instead, there were curtains of strung bead and bamboo, always tinkling mysteriously. Always at your service.
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