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All this juncture, a thundering crash was heard against the side of the bridge. A thing which had mystified her since childhood, a smouldering wonder why it should be, and until now she had never felt the urge to investigate. This young man did not drink because he sought the false happiness that lured men to the bottle. ‘I—I mean, she were—’ ‘Pretty as a picture?’ suggested Gerald. He felt his heart beat faster and faster—his self-restraint slipping away. She was noisy and hilarious and enthusiastic, and her hair was always abominably done. “What a little brick!” he murmured.

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