He grabbed her wrist and prised the weapon from her fingers, ignoring her other hand that clawed at his to try to retain the trophy. Perhaps if I had watched over her more closely, things would have been different. And, in spite of the boy's resistance, he plunged his hands into his pockets, and drew forth the miniature. “Why won’t you sleep in my bed tonight, Lucia, where 80 it’s warm?” He asked her one night, teasing but mournful, as she stood in her bedroom doorway in a long white gown. ” “You see I do. ‘Give me my pistol!’ Gerald shook his head, slipping the pistol into his pocket. Ruth obeyed, not willingly, but because there was something hypnotic in the authoritative tone. And yet he knew clearly and definitely what he purposed to do, what the future would be.
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