“It’s something that bothers me. ‘Poor Gerald has been very busy about your affairs this last week. 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. Hanging about! And they start thinking and asking questions, and begin to be neither one thing nor the other. You will find the proof in McClintock's safe. "Oh lord! I hope not. But there have been times, Anna, when your work has startled me. Then she sat watching the play, sometimes offering a helpful suggestion, sometimes letting her attention wander to the smoothly shining arms she had folded across her knees just below the edge of the table. He had chosen his time well. The books would be soaked and ruined in the rain anyway through the thin skin of the pack. Michelle helped her mother clear the table and Lucy thanked her for the meal.
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