Taking a firm grasp of his pistol, Gerald eased back, let go the handle of the door, and at the same instant, swung his booted foot. But ——” A look checked him. No; the future was not so dark; there was a bit of dawn visible. Gosse had moved forward, his pistol arm out straight, his aim true, the gun cocked. “I am sure,” she said, “that you mean to stay until you are turned out. You would rather live like the scum of the earth, in that little brown hovel you call a house, in bourgeois paradise. It began as a joke. ‘Gammon. Mrs. Let’s go up to my room. She could not risk going in the door, lest she run into Larry or Cathy drinking a nocturnal glass of milk or Mike raiding the refrigerator for snacks. ’ He flushed. Take it, I tell you. That's well.
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