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Ruth wore a printed cotton kimono. 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. Gosse would have killed me, and perhaps in the fight I might kill him. To find the incentive! But how? Thither and yon the idea roved, seeking the way. What was to happen now? She turned to Roding quickly. ’ ‘Was it?’ Her lips twitched. The Ragged Edge. One of her duties, after she had been taught to read, had been to read aloud after breakfast and before going to bed. But shortly this movement ceased.
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