" "Rollo!" There were no locks or panelled doors in the bungalow; and Rollo was aware of it. "I told you that before," rejoined Wood, testily. "I did see them on the platform of the bridge—the child and his preserver! They were not struck by the fallen ruin, nor whelmed in the roaring flood,—or, if they were, they escaped as I escaped. They should never come into contact with politics or economics—or any of those things. They’re in grad school and they both live in New York. It had rained during the night, and the patch-work pavement was greasy with mud. “You know,” he muttered, “you know quite well that your troubles are far more likely to weigh upon me than my own. "Why do you laugh?" he asked. He went to the door.
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