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Chapter 6

           Ipractisedwithit,holdingbelowthetargetandtryingtomasterthejerkoftheridiculousshortbarreluntilIcouldhitwithinayardofwhereIaimedattwentypacesandthentheridiculousnessofcarryingapistolatallcameovermeandIsoonforgotitandcarrieditfloppingagainstthesmallofmybackwithnofeelingatallexceptavaguesortofshamewhenImetEnglish-speakingpeople.IsatnowinthechairandanorderlyofsomesortlookedatmedisapprovinglyfrombehindadeskwhileIlookedatthemarblefloor,thepillarswiththemarblebusts,andthefrescoesonthewallandwaitedforMissBarkley.Thefrescoeswerenotbad.Anyfrescoesweregoodwhentheystartedtopeelandflakeoff.

           IsawCatherineBarkleycomingdownthehall,andstoodup.Shedidnotseemtallwalkingtowardmebutshelookedverylovely.

           "Good-evening,Mr.Henry,"shesaid.

           "Howdoyoudo?"Isaid.Theorderlywaslisteningbehindthedesk.

           "Shallwesithereorgooutinthegarden?"

           "Let’sgoout.It’smuchcooler."

           Iwalkedbehindheroutintothegarden,theorderlylookingafterus.Whenwewereoutonthegraveldriveshesaid,"Wherehaveyoubeen?"

           "I’vebeenoutonpost."

           "Youcouldn’thavesentmeanote?"

           "No,"Isaid."Notverywell.IthoughtIwascomingback."

           "Yououghttohaveletmeknow,darling."

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