’ ‘What for?’ asked Gerald, half laughing, as he put his hand in his pocket and brought out his elegant pistol. Niece and aunt regarded each other for a moment over their pockethandkerchiefs with watery but antagonistic eyes, each far too profoundly moved to see the absurdity of the position. This obstacle removed, he thought he might now make the attempt. "The devil you have!" thundered a voice from behind, that filled the apprentice with dismay. Marvel was almost dislodged from his seat on the coffin by a dead dog, which was hurled against him, and struck him in the face. She had resisted as long as she could; then she had stolen over. It can wait a bit longer.
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