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Updated: June 25, 2025
"A piece of bread and meat from the lunch counter, if you don't mind," I said; and then, in an apology for which I instantly despised myself: "Liquor doesn't agree with me lately; it it would gag me." Kellow ordered whiskey for himself, and after the waiter was gone he stared at me contemptuously. "So it's come to that, has it?" he derided.
For by now all scruples were dead and I was assuring myself grittingly that the entire Cripple Creek district was too narrow to hold the man who knew, and the man who was afraid. The Broken Wagon The day following the Kellow incident being Sunday, the three of us snatched an hour or so in the early forenoon for a breathing space.
You may think you can live the prison smell down, but you can't; it'll stick to you like your skin. Wherever you go, you'll be a marked man." It is a well-worn saying that life is full of paper walls. A look, a turn of the head, the recognition which would follow, and once more I should be facing a fate worse than death. Kellow knew that I had broken my parole.
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