She loved to be there, taking part in it all, breathing it, being it. ‘But there is something still I do not understand. A kind but hard looking female officer named Rose took her into a room and sat her down at a small wooden table. You did not find him, but did you find his pistol? In the room beyond the bookroom there—a big room where a table had fallen. Except for the dull eyes and the extreme pallor of his face, there was nothing else to indicate that he was deep in liquor.
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