She married my Dad in a small ceremony down at City Hall. The robbers proceeded singly, and kept on the grass skirting the road, so that no noise was made by their horses' feet. If he died, here in this hotel, who would care? Or if she died, who would care? A queer desire blossomed in her heart: to go to him, urge him to see the folly of trying to forget. She thought me— filthy. “Muck-headed moral ass! I ought to have done anything. ’ She saw the weapon wrenched from Emile’s hand and he dropped to the bench of the pew and sat there, grasping helplessly at the welling blood on his arm.
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