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. “What did it matter?” she cried. Not choosing to hazard so great a fall, Jack turned to examine the building, to see whether any more favourable point of descent presented itself, but could discover nothing but steep walls, without a single available projection. He had barely said, \"Anytime,\" before she shut the door rather rudely in his face. There came a wild rush of anthropological lore into her brain, a flare of indecorous humor. But I shan't let him off thus. She could not help devouring him a little with her eyes across the Burger King booth, handsome shoulders visibly solid underneath his ridiculous polo shirt, his eyes all sweetness and light. After that night she made it a habit. ‘But―but how can he know?’ His soldier’s instinct overtook Gerald and he dropped all his insouciance in a bang, becoming brisk. Not these twenty year. If our young person hadn’t had the nurse part cut out, eh? She might have known more and done less. Why did he imagine she was making this journey to England? She feigned interest. In the twilight he had ceased to be a person one could tackle and shame; he had become something more general, a something that crawled and sneaked toward her and would not let her alone.
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