He, next, tried to clamber up the flying buttresses and soffits of the pier, in the hope of reaching some of the windows and other apertures with which, as a man-of-war is studded with port-holes, the sides of the bridge were pierced. His gaze drawn, Gerald watched him dip to pick up a crushed square of white linen and a starched object that resembled a helmet. Angelina's distress over these mischances was pathetic. "Let us in," said the Master, rapping his truncheon authoritatively against the boards, "or we'll force an entrance. He made it impossible not to respond, his arms tightening deliciously around hers.
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