‘A spitfire, ain’t she, sir?’ Roding ignored this. "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. I watched you wait at the farmhouse! But I couldn’t compromise your safety! You must have realized that!” She lowered her voice to a loud whisper. The young male, as she had actually seen him, had been of the sailor type, hard-bitten, primordial, ruthless. The applause was uproarious at the end of the concert. “The young lady, I presume, told you that her name was Anna,” he remarked.
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