"
"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. Having read the three first verses of the impressive service appointed for
the burial of the dead, he returned to the church, whither the coffin was carried
through the south-western door, and placed in the centre of the aisle—Mr. “I’ll try to stop by. At
night she would turn it in her fingers like a rosary bead. Annabel, I was lying. “To Hell if we don’t change our ways. Then she sat watching the play,
sometimes offering a helpful suggestion, sometimes letting her attention wander
to the smoothly shining arms she had folded across her knees just below the edge
of the table.
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This video was uploaded to damaulifm.org on 02-07-2024 05:24:38