It was an unspoken curfew in the Beck house on week nights. She read on and on, now thrilled by the swiftly moving drama, now enraptured by the tender passages of love. “Hello, Teddy!” she answered. “Hey John, how’s it going?” “Hey Michelle. " This exclamation had scarcely escaped him, when the discharge of a pistol was heard, and a bullet whizzed past his ears.
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