Gosse had moved forward, his pistol arm out straight, his aim true, the gun cocked. It may be instinctive; it may be that children vaguely realize that at the end of all wedding journeys is disillusion. He was a thin old man, a wreck in a ruined body, but nothing would induce him to stand in any other way than as stiffly erect as possible like the soldier he had always been, even though he was obliged to lean on his silver-handled cane to do so. For thirty years I have lived alone; but once upon a time I lived among men.
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