GLAD SHE HAD HER GUN by Elinor Dufy My gnawing guilt about owning a handgun faded as quickly as the determination on the face of the burglar as soon as he noticed the blue-steel Smith & Wesson .38 caliber revolver in my hand. The young man, armed with an ice pick, had forced his way in my apartment and was waiting for me-even though he had heard me come down the stairs and had had time to get out. When he saw the gun, the burglar became a sweet young boy pleading for forgiveness. After all, he was only a...