“What a fool I am!” he muttered, standing up on the hearthrug, and leaning his elbows upon the broad mantelpiece. Any natural fineness would be numbed by drink. If he ran less risk of being blown over, he stood a much greater chance of being washed off, or stifled. ’ ‘And your precious vicomte didn’t wish for the English one,’ said Charvill, acid in his voice. “Damn! Things are getting plainer. "Take courage, man; it is only Quilt Arnold. After an hour of waiting, she slammed her bedroom door and he returned to his basement. He was roused from the stupor of despair into which he had sunk by the voice of Ben, who roared in his ear, "The bridge!—the bridge!" CHAPTER VII.
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