” “A little pit!” said Ann Veronica; “a little prison!” “It’s just as often a little refuge. But with the skill of a fencer he met the blow and broke it, seizing the wrist. " "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.
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