Winifred listened to his narration with the profoundest attention; and, when it concluded, her tearful eye and throbbing bosom told how deeply her feelings had been interested. She brought the cups of cocoa back to the bedroom. If we do not begin—” She had come to a resolution. " "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. Blue haze had settled beyond the black silhouettes of trees, graduating to the deep violet that began the night sky. “Why shouldn’t one face the facts of one’s self?” She stood up.
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