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THE BRIDGE OF SAN LUIS REY
Captain raised his voice, as to a deaf person:
“I said: Do you want to go on my next trip with me. . . .”
“Yes, I’ll go,” answered Esteban suddenly.
“Fine. That’s fine. I want your brother, too, of course.”
“No.”
“What’s the matter? Wouldn’t he want to come?”
Esteban mumbled something, looking away. Then half rising, he said: “I got to go now. I’ve got to see somebody about something.”
“Let me see your brother myself. Where is he?”
“. . . ’dead,” said Esteban.
“Oh, I didn’t know. I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”
“Yes,” said Esteban. “I got to go.”
“Hmm.—Which are you? What’s your name?”
“Esteban.”
“When did Manuel die?”’
“Oh, just a . . . just a few weeks. He hit his
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