"Whose child can this be?" "How the devil should I know!" replied Jonathan gruffly. As O'Higgins signed the hotel register, his keen glance took in the latest signatures. “Well, you certainly did very well at tea,” she remarked. “Well, I don’t feel like standing it. “But all the rest of our case is right. 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. He threw her on the bed.
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