“I have brought you very nearly to my door. 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. No offence, I hope. Do have another. “Often,” he repeated, a little heavily. She had learned this art in skirts, and knew well how not to be disadvantaged. Each became frightfully aware of the other as a plastic energetic body, of the strong muscles of neck against cheek, of hands gripping shoulder-blade and waist.
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