’ ‘Oh, that,’ Gerald said cautiously. Stunning and continuous, the din seemed almost to take away the power of hearing. “Do you know that boy very well, Shar?” Cathy Beck yelled in the general direction of the lavatory. ‘Give me my pistol!’ Gerald shook his head, slipping the pistol into his pocket. As she hoisted her skirts near her waist, she thought ruefully of the last time she had worn such an elaborate gown, sometime near 1910 when petticoats were still considered hip everyday garb. Her little white hand stole across the table. "Set down the kid," roared Blueskin, savagely. There was a stain of wine upon her dress.
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