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She went about, intentlooking and self-possessed, trim and fine, concealing her emotions whatever they were, as the realities of her position opened out before her. His heart hammered in his chest. 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. “I don’t see what else I could have said,” he remarked. “Actually, I am, it is terribly stupid. Think! Had you not better hurry back before Sir John discovers? You are his wife right enough. Capes went first, finding footholds and, where the drops in the strataedges came like long, awkward steps, placing Ann Veronica’s feet.
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