” The redness in his face betrayed him. 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. Oh, yes; of Ruth herself he knew much; but the more he mulled over what he knew, the deeper grew his chagrin. ‘When you’re my age, you’ll be just as hardheaded. The word handsome was a little beyond her grasp. ’ This was Leonardo’s philosophy. She emerged with a white face and wide-open eyes upon a little, red-lit landing. ” He extended his hand.
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