She had not at first the power for concealment. “Then let me be the judge of what is best,” she 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. This done, she waited at the side of the bed; but he gave no sign that he was conscious of her nearness.
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