She heard their feet and muffled voices. The slack cloth of her habit caught on a curlicue in the carved back of the pew in front, pulling her suddenly about. "I did see them on the platform of the bridge—the child and his preserver! They were not struck by the fallen ruin, nor whelmed in the roaring flood,—or, if they were, they escaped as I escaped. Don’t touch the handle, Annabel! Curse the thing, you’ve jammed it now. He was almost frightening in silhouette, his hair uncontrollable under the best of circumstances, but that changed when you saw his face.
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