with, set into it, a shallow stone bench. Hung up beside it is a belt of cork—meant for throwing, it says upon a sign, to those in difficulties upon the river.
I sit. The bridge is higher than I imagined it. I have never been so high! The thought makes me dizzy. I touch my broken shoe. May a woman nurse her foot on a public bridge? I do not know. The traffic passes, swift and unbroken, like roaring water. Suppose Richard should come? Again, I cover my face. A moment, and I''ll go on. The sun is hot. A moment, to find my breath. I close my eyes. Now, when people stare, I cannot see them.
Then someone comes and stands before me, and speaks. ''I''m afraid you''re unwell.''
I open my eyes. A man, rather aged. A stranger to me. I let my hand fall.
''Don''t be afraid,'' he says. Perhaps I look bewildered. ''I didn''t mean to surprise you.''
He touches his hat, makes a sort of bow. He might be a friend of
my uncle''s. His voice is a gentleman''s voice, and his collar is white.◣思◣兔◣網◣文◣檔◣共◣享◣與◣在◣線◣閱◣讀◣
He smiles, then studies me closer. His face is kind. ''Are you unwell?''
''Will you help me?'' I say. He hears my voice and his look
changes.
''Of course,'' he says. ''What