" "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. “I was watching you at Morningside Park, dear,” said Miss Miniver. It will hold aloof, a little undecided whether to pelt or not—” “That depends whether we carry ourselves as though we expected pelting,” said Ann Veronica. “You are too good for me,” she said in a low voice. Now, you know where he is bound. Dieu du ciel, what was it? She turned slowly, listening for the direction of the sound. ‘No! Let me alone!’ ‘It is not safe!’ ‘That is entirely my affair, and not your affair in the least,’ she told him haughtily. But I may yet live to thwart them.
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