sick call which he had been prevented all the afternoon from reaching, must be made before dinner time. He was in a cheerful mood. Emberly had given him encouraging news. He told it to Mrs. Bradley as they went along. But, for some reason which he could not understand, she was more than usually reticent, and when she spoke it was in monosyllables. It was not a sullen reticence, but rather a physical inability, as though she were laboring for breath. Five blocks farther down she said:
"I turn here and cross the foot-bridge. It's much nearer for me."
"I will go with you," he replied.
"But it will take you out of your way."
"It doesn't matter. Besides, it's an unfrequented route, and you shouldn't go alone at this hour."
She made no further objection, and he turned with her, and they came presently to the end of the foot-bridge. It was a suspension bridge, narrow and unstable, swung across the gorge above the Malleson mills to accommodate employees of that concern. The wire cables that supported it hung so low that at the center they were scarcely knee-high above the floor, and that was covered with ice. It rocked and swayed with them as they walked upon it. Before they were half-way across Mary Bradley's foot slipped. She sank to her knee and would have fallen over the side of the bridge had not the minister caught her, flung his arm around her waist and helped her to her feet.
"You're not hurt?" he asked.
"No—except—my ankle."
She was trembling with fright, and, when she tried to move on, the weakness of her injured foot made the attempt too hazardous and she hesitated. Two-thirds of the icy bridge had yet to be crossed.
"Shall we go back?" he asked.
"No," she replied, "we will go on."
The minister's arm was still about her waist. It was
