On regaining his breath, he began to consider whither chance had led him; and, rubbing his eyes to clear his sight, he perceived a sombre pile, with a lofty tower and broad roof, immediately in front of him. " "Why didn't he arrest Mr. Taking hold of the hilt of his own foil, he drew it forth. He returned figuratively to his bed—the bed he had made for himself and in which he must for ever lie. “Accident! She shot me,” he muttered.
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