” She laughed. It was Sunday evening—a soft delicious evening, and, from the happy, cheerful look of the house, none would have dreamed of the dismal tragedy so lately acted within its walls. “You have forgotten. Gosse sagged under the impact, knocking over the card table, and falling to sit, half stunned, the discharged pistol flying from his slackened grasp. You did it on your own?” Ann Veronica smiled. “Now she’s all hat and ideas,” he said, with an air of humor. “This is not every day. " "Mr. ‘I cannot possibly shoot a lady, you know. "An American.
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