“Soul to soul. But what the deuce! He was human; he was a machine only when on the hunt. Where the stuff came from was always a mystery. As she approached the corner of the Avenue the blond, no-hatted man in gray flannels appeared. " "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. "You have saved his life," replied Blueskin. Wood, and however he might dissent from the latter proposition, he did not deem it expedient to make any reply; and the orator proceeded with his harangue amid the general applause of the assemblage. Puffy blue curtains dressed every oakstained window.
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