‘Well?’ demanded Miss Froxfield, accepting a glass of lemonade proffered by a passing lackey. ‘But you said—’ Gerald tutted. ” “Touch you I mean?” She looked around. The blast once more swept over the agitated river: whirled off the sheets of foam, scattered them far and wide in rain-drops, and left the raging torrent blacker than before. “Of course!” he said. "I did see them on the platform of the bridge—the child and his preserver! They were not struck by the fallen ruin, nor whelmed in the roaring flood,—or, if they were, they escaped as I escaped.
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