” “Wait,” she said. ” “It is an accident,” he answered. " "Not unless your skull's bullet-proof," cried a voice at his elbow; and, as the words were uttered, a pistol was snapped at his head, which,—fortunately or unfortunately, as the reader pleases,—only burnt the priming. "Shall I take the babby home with me!" persisted Wood, in a tone between jest and earnest. Forgive my daring.
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