Joan told me it was hung somewhere in the house, only I couldn’t remember where after all this time. 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 gave the gaping Pottiswick a shove, passing him on to his junior, who was waiting patiently by the kitchen door. To be frank with you, I have an affront to requite, which can be settled at the same time, and in the same way with your affair. A white man, wandering about the streets of Canton at night, was a challenge to such a catastrophe.
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