A young woman with a white badge on her arm stood and counted the sections as they entered their vans. 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 had quite enough to see to and worry about in the City without their doing things. . Her nerves were shattered, her senses dazed by this unexpected shock. By his side sat a remarkably stout dame, to whom he paid as much attention as it was in his iron nature to pay.
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