She watched the captain tuck the pistol back in his pocket, and perch on the edge of the big desk. In and out of consciousness she sailed, hearing voices from memory that she could not distinguish from reality. He had buckled on his hanger, and had two brace of pistols in his belt, as well as others in this holsters. They left the room amongst the last, and Ennison had almost to elbow his way through a group of acquaintances who had all some pretext for detaining him, to which he absolutely refused to listen. “I love this warm end of summer more than words can tell,” he said.
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