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At the station there was a pestering drunk with his 'how-come' stuff and two simpering women with their 'ain't-he-cute' rot. I was tired. I'd had a tough season. That summer, there was a big crop of gawks and I had encountered all of 'em. I wanted to quit the game wanted to hide out. On the sleeper, I dreamed of this place. I was on a horse a big, fat ring-horse, with a pad.