Old farmhouses loomed as they whizzed by, left behind in the gray like mourners. “Reuben, come here. ” “Well?” Anna remarked calmly. " "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. The houses loomed progressively larger as one strode up the block, growing from ranch to two-story, from squat 1950's modern to stately 1890's palace. But she made a pretence of struggling a little, for it would be out of character for her not to do so and she did not want to arouse his suspicions. "You show more consideration to the feelings of a hempen widow, than there is any need to show.
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