Take, if you please, your own pistol. She could hardly speak to me; she insisted relentlessly upon a separation. Wrenching his hands from her shoulders, she thrust them away and leapt up from the chair. Tum, tum, tirray, tum, tum, tum, te-tum—that thing of Mendelssohn’s! If making one human being absolutely happy is any satisfaction to you—” He held out his hands, and she also stood up. While they were thus occupied, a maid-servant entered the room, and stated that a person was without who had a packet for Captain Darrell, which must be delivered into his own hands. Her hand came up and she laced her fingers with his.
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