And now, Sir Rowland," he continued, turning to the knight, "to our own concerns. 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 girl stood with her hands behind her back, sulky, resolute, and intelligent, a strand of her black hair over one eye and looking more than usually delicate-featured, and more than ever like an obdurate child. But it was the form of her ruling determination; it was the only form that she ever allowed to see daylight. Trodger laid down their muskets and turned on them.
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