She read the policeman’s rueful glance when she caught his refection in his rearview mirror. As he stood upon the bridge, he held down the light, and looked into the profound abyss. And I think I must pursue my acquaintance with the fulsome Madame Valade. And yet that could not be: it was a confession only in the event of his death. Why on earth couldn’t he leave her to grow in her own way? Her pride rose at the bare thought of return. Her figure, though slight, had all the fulness of health; and her complexion—still pale, but without its former sickly cast,—contrasted agreeably, by its extreme fairness, with the dark brows and darker lashes that shaded eyes which, if they had lost some of their original brilliancy, had gained infinitely more in the soft and chastened lustre that replaced it.
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