“I wondered. “You can count upon me, Nigel,” she said. “Thank you, Martin,” she replied graciously. By and by she heard the screen door. “Touch a hair on his head and you will insure that I will never make love to you again. Steps to aid the descent, which was too steep to be safe without them, led to, a door on the opposite side. “You won’t give me away, Anna. Annabel had spoken calmly enough and steadily, but his brain refused at first to accept the full meaning of her words. 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. .
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