He woke up with a start and the alarm clock read 4:46 P. ” “Mr. 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. It was a letter. So that the thought of Ann Veronica up-stairs had been extremely painful for her through all the silent dinner-time that night. The foremost, tall, clean-shaven, perfectly groomed, half extended his hand with a smile of recognition.
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