Sheppard, pressing her hand to her temples. “I saw him stagger and sink down, and the pistol was smoking still in my hand. He took up his hat and went. Farewell. Raven locks fell to her shoulders from under the feathered beaver hat, and curled away down her back. Could she go through with it? She must. I am determined to fight my own little battle with the world —there must be a place for me somewhere, and I mean to find it. ' Upon which the other answered, 'that he accepted his invitation with pleasure, and would make a point of waiting upon him,' Ha! ha! ha!" "Did he say so?" cried Shotbolt.
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