Edward Bribble stood between them with an open book. All this juncture, a thundering crash was heard against the side of the bridge. The thought of their faces, and particularly of her aunt’s, as it would meet the fact— disconcerted, unfriendly, condemning, pained—occurred to her again and again. It was his particular hobby, and the leisure he had to apply to it had given him a remarkable appraising eye. ’ ‘Parbleu, but I find you excessively rude,’ she snapped, marching to meet him. Presently. My motive in coming hither is to serve you, and save your life.
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