"Oh, you flatterer!" she returned. "Papa, did you miss me?"
"Every day, every hour. Did I not tell you so in my letters? And you? did
you think often of me?"
"Oftener than I can tell."
"I have been wondering," he said, looking gravely into her eyes, "why you
both so carefully avoided the slightest allusion to that most exciting
episode of your stay at Viamede."
Elsie blushed. "We did not wish to make you uneasy, papa."
"Of course, you must have seen a newspaper account?" observed Mr.
Travilla.
"Yes; and now suppose you let me hear your report. Did the villain's shot
graze Elsie's forehead and carry a tress of her beautiful hair?"
"No, no, it was only a lock of her unworthy husband's hair--a much
slighter loss," Travilla said, laughing. "But perhaps the reporter would
justify his misrepresentation on the plea that man and wife are one."
"Possibly. And did your shot shatter the bone in the rascal's arm?"
"No; Dr. Balis told me the ball glanced from the bone, passed under the
nerve and severed the humeral artery."
"It's a wonder he didn't bleed to death."
"Yes; but it seems he had sufficient knowledge and presence of mind to
improvise a tourniquet with his handkerchief and a stick."
"What rooms were you occupying?" asked Mr.
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