CHAPTER VII. 13 Montague Street. ’ ‘I know,’ he said, smiling. ” “Don’t worry yourself. ” “For what?” Lucy 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. ’ Roding left the house instantly, not even pausing to nod. " And she flung herself between them. Apparently he did not see his recent companions. ” She smiled at him broadly and kissed his cheek.
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