Unformatted text preview: he cement-walled shooting gallery in Gretna. Heard Mona cheering her on. She could feel that big heavy thing dance upwards as she pulled the trigger. Oh, how she wanted it now. "I want you to come back in the morning," she said, nodding em- phatically as she said it. "You must leave my house now." She even thought of the medal. Oh, God, why hadn't she put the medal on! She had wanted to. St. Michael the Archangel, defend us in battle. "Go away from here." "I can't do that, my precious one, my Gifford," he said as if singing to a slow-paced melody." "You're saying crazy things to me. I don't know you. I'm asking you again to leave." But when she went to step back, she did not dare. Some bit of charm or compassion had left his face abruptly. He was staring at her warily, maybe even bitterly. This was like the face of a child, all right, mobile and seductive, and endearing in its quick and abandoned flashes of feeling. How smooth and perfect the forehead; such propor- tion. Had Diirer been born so perfect? "Remember me, Gifford. I wish I could remember you. I stood beneath the trees when you saw me. Surely I did. T...
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This note was uploaded on 02/20/2010 for the course WRITING 220.200 taught by Professor Julie during the Spring '10 term at Johns Hopkins.
- Spring '10