"Curly, for the love of heaven - "

"Take your hand off my arm, Pete. I'm going to kill this - -. He's not
the kind of man I thought he was."

Two shots crashed in the room!

Spellman wavered through the smoke haze, then dropped his pistol and
fell slowly across the card table littered with shining cards and poker
chips. An overturned tallow-dip dropped in a pool of wine and rolled
down against the dead man's cheek, dabbling it with the color which
would never return to it again.

* * * * *

"Bet, ain't that Curly Gillmore that we knew three years ago at Coloma,
when Allie died?"

"Must be a-gittin' blind! Where?"

"The feller all dressed up an' walkin' with the lady. Sure it is! Hi,
Curly, hel-lo! It's Babe. Well, ain't I glad - "

The woman with Curly fixed Babe with a stony glare. "If you wish to
converse with this ... woman, kindly do so when your wife is not
accompanying you," she said to him in an angry undertone, and went
majestically on.

"I'll come back, Babe. We've been married just a month and she doesn't
understand. I'll be back later," and he hurried off.