Зима тревоги нашей

           "IsurewishIcouldtakeavacationinItaly—withoutarifleandafieldpack.Fortyyearsisalongtime,though.Whatyeardidyoucomeover?"

           "Nineteentwenty—longtimeago."

           Morphseemedtohavehititonthenose.Maybebankersandcopsandcustomsmengetaninstinct.Thenanother,maybealittledeeperprobecametomymind.Iopenedthedrawerandtookouttheoldrevolverandtosseditonthecounter.Marulloputhishandsbehindhim."Whatyougotthere,kid?"

           "Ijustthoughtyououghttogetapermitforitifyouhaven’tgotone.TheSullivanActisatoughone."

           "Where’ditcomefrom?"

           "It’sbeenhereallalong."

           "Ineversawit.Itdon’tbelongtome.It’syours."

           "Notmine.Ineversawitbeforeeither.It’sgottobelongtosomebody.Longasit’sheredon’tyouthinkyoubetterapplyforapermit?Yousureit’snotyours?"

           "ItellyouIneversawit.Idon’tlikeguns."

           "That’sfunny.IthoughtallbigMafiamenloved’em."

           "Howyoumean,Mafia?YoutryingtosayI’mMafia?"

           Imadeabiginnocentjokeaboutit."ThewayIheardit,allSiciliansbelongtoMafia."

           "That’scrazy.Idon’tevenknownoMafia."

           Itossedthegunintothedrawer."Liveandlearn!"Isaid."Well,Isuredon’twantit.MaybeIbetterturnitovertoStoney.TellhimIjustcameonitbehindsomething,becausethat’swhatIdid."

           "Youdothat,"saidMarullo."Ineversawitinmylife.Idon’twantit.It’snotmine."

           "Okay,"Isaid."Outitgoes."