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...
later, later! A shelf bracket in the bed-sitting room seemed to have been
intended for a communication terminal; now it was empty. Near it, let into the
rock, was a brass plate:
In This Room on Tuesday 14 May 2075 Adam Selene. Bemardo de la Paz. Manuel
Davis, and Wyoming Knott Created the Plan That Gave Rise to Free Luna. Here They
Declared the Revolution!
I was not impressed. Yes, those four were heroes of the Revolution but in
the year in which I buried Colin Campbell and created Richard Ames I had stayed
in a dozen-odd hotel rooms in L-City; most of them had sported a similar sign.
It was like the "Washington Slept Here" signs back in my native country: bait
for tourists, any resemblance to truth a happy accident.
Not that I cared. I took off my foot, lay down on the couch, and tried to
make my mind blank.
Gwen! Oh, damn, damn, damn!
Had I been a stiff-necked fool? Perhaps. But, damn it all, there is a
limit. I didn't mind indulging Gwen in most things. It was all right to let her
make decisions for both of us and I hadn't squawked even when she did so without
consulting me. But she should not encourage this pensioner to defy me-now should
she? I should not have to put up with that. A man can't live that way.
But I can't live without her!
Not true, not true! Up until this week-hardly more than three days ago-you
lived without her
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