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. She would never love him as she loved Capes, of course, but there are grades and qualities of love. She had neither the semi-boisterousness of the average American girl nor the chilling insolence of the English. It isn’t law, nor custom, nor masculine violence settled that. "Why do you laugh?" he asked. “That was a moment of madness,” she said. Laughed at me, then. ‘Of course. “You know—,” said Mr. Wood started to his feet. " "Take a glass of gin, Ma'am," cried Poll Maggot, holding up a bottle of spirit; "it used to be your favourite liquor, I've heard. It was the end, she told herself, fiercely. Life’s hard enough nowadays for an unprotected male. The young fellow was almost as odd in his way as the girl was in hers. I am very, very sorry, but you must listen to me.
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