Ruth crossed over to the dramatist of this tragicomedy and put a hand on his shoulder. A curious silence ensued. "Do you know what you make me think of?" "What?" "As if you had stepped out of some old family album. ’ But she reckoned without the fellow Trodger. . No matter how much you tell me, you will always keep something back. Pramlay lived for amenities and the mellowed surfaces of things. 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.
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