Gerald glanced down and saw her dash at a spread of blood on his own hand, only now realising that her dagger had found its mark. 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. ’ ‘Sport!’ grumbled her betrothed, but he accompanied them across the ballroom all the same. He made a movement toward her, and then recalled the circumstances of their last conversation in that study. " "How do you manage that, Mr.
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