" The worthy carpenter was now far more angry with himself than he had previously been with Mrs. Groping their way through one or two dark and mouldy-smelling vaults, the party ascended a flight of steps, which brought them to the hall. “It was very tiring. The struggle had dislodged the white wimple, which was evidently too large for her, and her black hair broke free, whirling like a whiplash about her head as her hands curled into fists, coming up to beat at his chest, her little teeth bared for attack. He, next, tried to clamber up the flying buttresses and soffits of the pier, in the hope of reaching some of the windows and other apertures with which, as a man-of-war is studded with port-holes, the sides of the bridge were pierced. "Ruth?" he called. Where is he, Sir? Can I see him?" "No, that you can't," answered Mrs. " "Hurt her? It would tear her to pieces; God knows she has had enough. “It was a phase,” she said.
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