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. A woman touched him lightly on the arm, and smiled into his face. "You have uttered a wilful and deliberate falsehood in asserting that I have murdered Thames, for whom you well know I would lay down my life. She heard the shower running and looked at his floor. ” Annabel moistened her dry lips with a handkerchief steeped in eau de Cologne.
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