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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. She should be lifted out of her narrow little life, and it should be all owing to him. The family always managed to make it home for supper, even though it was a dying custom. But he has never been near her—never. Sheppard looked round, and exchanged kindly glances with several of those who addressed him. She showered after she heard the door shut and the cars pull out of the driveway. Her nurse says she may live some time; but she seems to me to be sinking fast.
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