“I should like to speak to you for a few minutes,” he said to Anna, dropping his voice a little. " "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. My sister made me over, you know. Tucked under the writing-table a pair of yellow and gold Turkish slippers of a highly meretricious quality caught her eye. Sheppard, distractedly. “You are neither of you in the least like the ordinary boarding-house young man. I keep on thinking of you.
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