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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 are—or rather you were——” he corrected himself with an unpleasant little laugh, “Miss Pellissier, eh?” A little sensation followed upon his words. That's one of the troubles with young folks: they take themselves so seriously. We can get absorbed in play, in games, in the business we do. Except for one memorable school excursion to Paris, Ann Veronica had never yet been outside England. “I wish they did,” he said, “but they don’t. “I am sorry,” he said slowly. But a middle-aged man like Ramage ought to know better than to draw out a girl, the daughter of a friend and neighbor.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 29-09-2024 03:22:08