D. “Will he die?” she asked. " "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. Then they dressed her in a dirty dress of coarse serge and a cap, and took away her own clothes. ’ Pottiswick sucked at his teeth through the gaps. Nothing but the publicity of the place and the recollection of that terrible constituency kept him from attempting some perfectly respectful but unmistakable evidence of his sympathy.
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