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. There followed a silence which endured several minutes; or, rather a tableau. “Were you ever in love, aunt?” she asked. Empty, silly, coarse brutes. ” 162 “Mmmm-hmmm. ” She replied with a rehearsed answer, “I was told that my real mother died the day I was born. It is with the building raised after this direful calamity that our history has to deal. CHAPTER V At dinner the spinsters invited Ruth to sit at their table, an invitation she accepted gratefully. Wood, in a whisper, as he filled a rummer to the brim, not to forget the health of the Chevalier de Saint George—a proposition to which the lady immediately responded by drinking the toast aloud.
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