” She thanked him with a look and rose to her feet. “When are you going away?” He asked. He fancied that the whole fabric of the bridge was cracking over head,—that the arch was tumbling upon him,—that the torrent was swelling around him, whirling him off, and about to bury him in the deafening abyss. ” “Yes. ” She said, studying his face, which seemed to lose its childishness a little more with each day. ‘A devil is just what you are. I’m sorry to disappoint you. “Neither Sydney nor I would think of such a thing. ’ ‘You, perhaps?’ she flung at him furiously, stepping out from behind the desk. Straitened circumstances would not have mattered; a mother would have managed somehow. We needn’t try and give ourselves airs.
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