“I had a dream in the night,” she said. He had a peculiar way of stepping in, in a parry; knew his arm, and its just time of moving; put a firm faith in that, and never let his opponent escape. The manager had sketched the girl's character, or rather had interpreted it, from the incidents which had happened since dinner. She looked at me as though I were some unclean thing, as though my soul were weighted with every sin in the calendar. "No. "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. That handsome, finely drawn face belonged to a soul with clean ideals. .
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