G
ood thing
she
h
a
d
a
g
r
e
e
d to b
ec
ome
his
w
i
fe
.
O
t
h
erw
ise
w
h
a
t
I
ra
q
h
a
dn
’
t
b
ee
n
a
ble
to do to him, a
b
r
ok
e
n h
e
a
r
t su
re
l
y
w
ould h
a
v
e
.
A
nd
a
t si
x foot
f
our,
Co
r
d
B
e
n
n
e
tt
wa
sn
’
t
a
n
e
a
s
y
m
a
n
t
o t
a
ke
do
w
n.
N
or
wa
s he
a
pushov
er
.
A
t l
ea
st not until C
a
ssie
h
a
d
c
ome
into his li
fe
.
N
ot h
a
lf
a
n hour
ear
li
e
r
h
is b
e
st m
a
n h
a
d
re
mind
e
d
him th
a
t no m
a
tt
e
r
w
h
a
t C
a
ssie
look
e
d like
in h
e
r
d
re
ss, he
wa
s
t
o m
a
ke
a
bsolut
e
l
y
c
e
r
t
a
i
n th
a
t the
e
x
p
re
ssion on his
fac
e
told h
er
, in no un
cer
t
a
in t
e
r
ms, th
a
t he
wa
s blo
w
n
a
w
a
y
b
y
h
e
r
a
pp
eara
n
ce
,
b
y
h
e
r
d
r
e
ss,
b
y
h
e
r
pre
s
e
n
ce.
B
ut
w
h
e
n
h
e
spott
e
d C
a
ssie
a
t the
e
nd of
the
a
isl
e
,
a
bout to t
a
ke
th
a
t st
e
p to
war
d him in h
e
r
so
f
t
w
hite
g
o
w
n
w
ith
h
e
r
h
a
ir
s
w
e
pt up o
f
f
h
e
r
should
er
s on the
ar
m of
h
e
r
fa
t
h
er
, th
e
r
e
h
a
d b
ee
n no n
e
e
d
f
or
p
re
t
e
nd
i
n
g
.
H
e
h
a
d simp
l
y
b
ee
n blo
w
n
aw
a
y
b
y
the
s
h
ee
r
b
ea
ut
y
C
a
ssie
inn
a
t
e
l
y
sho
we
d to the
w
o
r
ld.
He
r
fa
c
e
lit up, st
a
nding
th
e
r
e
in the
g
o
w
n
s
he
h
a
d so
c
a
ref
ul
l
y
c
ho
s
e
n
w
ith the
b
ea
d
a
nd p
ear
l bodi
ce
, t
h
e
w
a
y
the
ski
r
t sho
we
d o
f
f
h
e
r
c
u
r
v
e
s
a
nd
f
ull
f
i
g
u
re
.
H
e
fe
ll in love
w
ith h
e
r
a
ll ov
e
r
a
g
a
in.
T
he
n
er
v
e
s
fe
ll
aw
a
y
.
A
ll of
his un
ea
se
subsid
e
d.
St
ar
ing
a
t his soon
-
to
-
be
w
i
fe
, his mouth
g
a
p
e
d o
p
e
n; he
w
ould h
a
ve
b
e
t mon
e
y
on it.
H
e
wa
s th
a
t
awe
s
t
r
u
c
k.
B
ut th
e
n, it
a
ll
c
h
a
n
g
e
d
i
n a
f
l
a
sh of
g
un
f
i
re
.
B
y
the
time
Co
r
d
r
e
a
li
z
e
d
w
h
a
t
wa
s h
a
p
p
e
ni
n
g
, the
uninvit
e
d
g
u
e
st h
a
d
a
l
r
ea
d
y
f
i
r
e
d a s
er
i
e
s of
f
a
t
a
l shots.
H
is
e
y
e
s
z
er
o
e
d in on the
m
a
n holding
the
L
u
g
e
r
. Co
r
d st
ar
t
e
d
r
unni
n
g
do
w
n the
a
isle
to
war
d C
a
ssi
e
.
B
ut he
c
ouldn
’
t
g
e
t his l
e
g
s to move
f
a
st
e
no
u
g
h.
B
ull
e
ts
f
l
ew
. P
e
ople
s
cr
e
a
m
e
d.
B
oom, boom, boom—the
m
a
n k
e
pt
f
i
r
i
n
g
.
Co
r
d s
a
w
the
shoot
e
r
tu
r
n, t
a
ke
a
f
e
w
st
e
ps to
w
ar
d him,
a
nd
a
im his
wea
p
on.
T
h
a
t
’
s
w
h
e
n
h
e
fe
lt the
b
u
r
n in his
c
h
e
st.