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” Chapter X THE TRAGEDY OF AN APPETITE Anna, notwithstanding her quiet clothes, a figure marvellously out of accord with her surroundings, sat before a small marble-topped table at a crowded A. 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. You know—I worship you. But he looked back into the hall and spoke to the sergeant who could just be seen behind him. Then, as Ramage readjusted himself in a corner, he remarked: “These young people shoot up, Stanley. Small wonder she had learned to be self-reliant.
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