She bound a scarf tightly round the place where the blood seemed to be coming from. She let go of him and stood up, straightening herself. “We sent for you several hours ago,” he remarked. " "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. ” “In a minute, in a minute,” he answered, his eyes fixed upon Anna.
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