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The Jew did not speak, but pointed to the audience-chamber. Opening the door he then stepped into a dark narrow passage leading, as he was well aware, to the chapel. The open books she knew by heart; aye, they had been ground into her, morning and night. 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. “Let us escape,” she said. She heard the sounds of Rhea scuttling about, and then feeding, brutally. She pulled at his tee shirt again, wishing to feel his naked chest upon hers.
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