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Show 83 tell her? He moved away to his car. Back in town, in the casino, he put in more obligatory time. Trying to lose, he won. "Nice hit," the dealer said. He hadn't even seen the cards. Jesus, he hated luck! "Do people ever throw themselves from that dam?" he asked. The dealer shuffled and reshuffled; he smiled; said nothing; dealt. A gesture! Love was never still, Hunt thought; It was a gesture! What scribbled note, inside him, fading, told him that? "You want to split those sixes?" the dealer asked. He won. He won and won and began to tremble; he couldn't stop. Every breath seemed increasingly dangerous. Freeman came and stood and watched-him, growing at first, friendlier -- Did he want more booze? Would he like a woman? -- then turning, asking Hunt to come to his office. "Are you using a device?" Freeman asked. "Can I see your pockets?" He wanted Hunt to remove his shirt and jacket. "I'm sorry, Mr. Hunt;" Freeman grew ultimately apologetic; "But you've had rather startling luck." "I haven't meant to," Hunt admitted. "I didn't plan." He called Victoria Speer: "Come," he said to her, huskily; "Have lunch." "I've looked," she said. "I've looked and looked. Where have you been?" Over cold seafood salads, he talked - Hunt himself wasn't sure what his point was - about Boulder Dam. She kept cutting her shrimp into smaller and smaller pieces, looking for veins. |