When? As soon as possible, he said. Five hundred yards. I'm going to give them something to talk about, she said. The child hadgone grey as the ashes in the fireplace.
She wanted to run after him, to try and comfort him, but she knew thatit was beyond even the power of her great love. She had to talk to someone, if only it could have been Blaine. Centainelaunched herself at him, coming off her knees and driving her wholeweight into his chest, just below the raised left arm that he had usedto throw the shotgun. Your affectionate Uncle Tromp Bierman.
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