Professing to stand between the robber and the robbed, he himself plundered both. 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. There was some one there. She pawed at him, her hunger for his body making her dizzy with anticipation. Proceeding along the wall, Jack reached the southern tower, over the battlements of which he clambered, and crossing it, dropped upon the roof of the gate. He reminds me of a slave I once had in Rome with those sullen dark eyes and that wistful pout.
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