He was roused from the stupor of despair into which he had sunk by the voice of Ben, who roared in his ear, "The bridge!—the bridge!" CHAPTER VII. She spent the morning up to ten in writing a series of unsuccessful letters to Ramage, which she tore up unfinished; and finally she desisted and put on her jacket and went out into the lamp-lit obscurity and slimy streets. No man knew whence she had come nor why. Its smooth surface soothed her nerves. He forgot Annabel’s idle attempts at love-making, all the cul-de-sac gallantry of the moment. ’ ‘Secret passage, is it?’ The sergeant seemed to brighten at this. Was he planning on spending more time with her once in the country? The streets choked with beggars and the dying. She could smell his cologne underneath his collar, or perhaps his aftershave.
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