Gerald’s task was to stop him from doing so. You know how stubborn they get. “Go on,” he said. She felt sticky and ashamed when he dropped her off a block away from the McCloskey house as she had requested. She pulled her veil down, and he knew that silence was best. While he was thus occupied, he felt a rough grasp upon his arm, and presently afterwards Ben's lips approached close to his ear. " "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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