” “You and your father?” Lucy asked. Taber? There is a possibility. " "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. ‘Truth is, it’s Gerald who’s put me in the devil’s own temper, ma’am.
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