CHAPTER XXIV. ‘I have told you, a whip it is nothing. Winifred's reception was kind, but more distant, and after the slight ceremonial she resumed her occupation. She had a feeling as though something had dropped from her eyes, as though she had just discovered herself for the first time—discovered herself as a sleepwalker might do, abruptly among dangers, hindrances, and perplexities, on the verge of a cardinal crisis. He, next, tried to clamber up the flying buttresses and soffits of the pier, in the hope of reaching some of the windows and other apertures with which, as a man-of-war is studded with port-holes, the sides of the bridge were pierced. ’ Roding gave a bark of derisive laughter and left the room.
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