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Updated: May 22, 2025
K., standing uncertainly on a carpet oasis that was the center of the parlor varnish, stripped off his sweater. "Not very busy here this afternoon!" he said to the unseen female on the staircase. Then he saw her. It was Tillie. She put a hand against the doorframe to steady herself. Tillie surely, but a new Tillie!
The Arabs beyond the doorway had dived for cover, leaving the doorframe clear except for the most recent victim of Scotty's shooting and the one Rick had hit. He was lying on the floor with both hands clutched to his throat, gagging and gasping for air. A headdress was thrust around the frame and Scotty squeezed off a quick shot. The hammer clicked harmlessly. He was out of ammunition!
Why is it that barbers can't cut hair without getting it into places where it itches?" Rick smiled sympathetically. He knew how it was. No matter how careful a barber tried to be, it seemed impossible to get a haircut without a shower of hair clippings down the back. Usually they lodged where it was impossible to scratch. Duke rubbed against the doorframe. "It's Vince Lardner's day off," he began.
He rolled away. Scotty aimed with care, as coolly as though he stood on the range back home. He squeezed the trigger and was rewarded by a choked yell from beyond the doorway. He fired again, and a burnoosed figure grabbed the doorframe for support.
The co-pilot hung onto the doorframe and watched it land. He chose another box. He checked it. And another. Joe helped. They got them out of the door and dropping dizzily through emptiness. The plane soared on in circles. The desert, as seen through the opened clamshell doors, reeled away astern, and then seemed to tilt, and reeled away again. Joe and the co-pilot labored furiously.
As it was she could only toss restlessly, then get up and pace in frustration. But as she passed through the hallway and began to enter the dimly lit compound, she saw a male figure hunched at the table, and another, female form behind, touching him. Thinking it one of the other couples, she drew back into the shadows of the doorframe.
He had lifted his battered hat from his head, striving to distinguish a single note in all that treble of girlish laughter when, framed suddenly against the background of light within, he saw a slender silhouette take up its station in the doorframe. Barbara was still peering out across the darkness when he came up to her.
Her conductor tapped lightly on the doorframe, and presently the wet curtain was moved aside by Constance, who greeted her visitor with a glad smile while giving him her hand, but the darkness of the small landing, which had no light from above, prevented her from seeing Fan for some moments. "Harold at last!" she said, her hand still resting in his.
They talked of things indifferent; and when the young men were stumbling along the streets, he called after them a resounding "Good-night! Thanks!" and stood a resolute, gigantic silhouette, filling, as a right Doone filled their doorframe, the entrance to his deserted chapel. At his gate, felt Rudolph, they had unloaded some weight of responsibility.
But when the lady was half way up the first flight of stairs the flames suddenly burst through the doorframe, and Miss Scrimp stopped. "That candle!" she shrieked. "I knew I had no business to give that girl that candle." "Who?" asked Ruth. "That infant Amy Gregg her name is. I'll tell Mrs. Tellingham " "But please don't tell anybody else, Miss Scrimp," begged Ruth.
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