It was one of those old sliding trap affairs, narrow and steep of descent. Girls screamed in chorus. “He would never have found you out if you had not personated me. Gerald went through all the papers in front of Gosse and that woman of his, one by one. The ripple of the water against the boat, as its keel cleaves through the stream—the darkling current hurrying by—the indistinctly-seen craft, of all forms and all sizes, hovering around, and making their way in ghostlike silence, or warning each other of their approach by cries, that, heard from afar, have something doleful in their note—the solemn shadows cast by the bridges—the deeper gloom of the echoing arches—the lights glimmering from the banks—the red reflection thrown upon the waves by a fire kindled on some stationary barge—the tall and fantastic shapes of the houses, as discerned through the obscurity;—these, and other sights and sounds of the same character, give a sombre colour to the thoughts of one who may choose to indulge in meditation at such a time and in such a place. “I am sure you will marry Nigel sooner or later, and then all your work will be thrown away. He slid out of her. ‘You have the means to take up your rightful place.
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