The other must call a coach as quickly as he can. “Accident! She shot me,” he muttered. ’ ‘And she’d be right,’ Martha said severely. The voices went into his ears but left no impression of their import. The cry was echoed by twenty different voices. It seems to me just talk; it seems to me like the fancy of a dream. "Wretch!" cried Jack. There isn’t a husband breathing, Annabel, who wouldn’t have blessed that pistol in your hands, and prayed God that the bullet might go straight.
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