” He said as they parted company. The bed was hard beyond any experience of hers, the bed-clothes coarse and insufficient, the cell at once cold and stuffy. Her heart failed her and her resolution became water. The prisoner breathed with difficulty. She was retuning, fifths spilling from the sliver of light underneath the door like milk. " "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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