" "Here you have it, my dear," returned the hawker. Wrenching his hands from her shoulders, she thrust them away and leapt up from the chair. She pocketed the sum total of his ready cash, about fortyeight dollars. One could enter and leave by proa, but nothing with a keel could cross the coral gate. Puffy blue curtains dressed every oakstained window. 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. “I was able to borrow the money. "Will he live?" asked Ruth.
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