“It does nothing but sit there. . “Please call me Carol. 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. ’ ‘How shocking,’ Gerald returned, grinning. The oranges were of the Syrian variety, small but filled with scarlet honey. " "Nor any one else in his senses," rejoined Wood, with a laugh. And, by way of checking his housekeeper's familiarity, he pointed significantly to the table.
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