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. His face was downcast. “MY DEAR GIRL,— “I am so sorry if we made asses of ourselves to-night. “I don’t know. Give me that picture, or I'll make you!" "Hear me," said Thames, calmly; "you well know you're no match for me. By-the-bye, do you recognize that?” Anna looked and gasped. Her eyes flashed. .
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