He scratched his upper lip reflectively. His countenance was pale as death, but not a muscle quivered; nor did he betray the slightest appearance of fear. Not once during the ceremony did the two look at each other, but riveted their gaze upon the lips of the man who was forging the bands: gazed intensively, as if they feared the world might vanish before the last word of the ceremony was spoken. No, you don’t!” Ennison had moved stealthily a little nearer to him, and looked suddenly into the dark muzzle of the revolver. ’ ‘And she’d be right,’ Martha said severely.
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