I loved her and made love to her, and I don’t think she quite loved me back in the same way. Or had she, like himself, been held up until the fellow returned to town? He waited, his ready humour anticipating her likely reaction. He went in there, and he was in there for a good half hour. She used his own gun against him, a method that was occasionally cleaner than slitting throats when she got it right. Maggot had disappeared. He took a handful of almonds and raisins that she held out to him—for both these young people had given up the practice of going out for luncheon—and kept her hand for a moment to kiss her finger-tips. ‘And that object confirms me in the belief that it is not I who will shortly meet my maker. .
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