For awhile he watched the revolving light on Copeley's. He seemed to know a great deal about life. “If I had three hands,” she said, with a faint smile, “I would give one to each of you. Meantime, every preparation had been made outside for his departure. But for all that, it offered relief; his brain, stupefied by the fumes, grew dull, and conscience lost its edge to bite. “I saw him stagger and sink down, and the pistol was smoking still in my hand. He munched his popcorn steadily, periodically offering it to her, but not his Coke, as that would be too bold, a saliva exchange. Why shouldn’t we be martyrs? There’s nothing else for most of us, anyhow. " She paused.
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