One hour later she had gone back to the mission—without the salt. Restlessness, then, was the trouble, simple restlessness: home bored her. "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. A man, then, rushed up the entry, and, seizing the unlucky carpenter by the collar, presented a drawn sword to his throat. She breathed deeply of the starch of his shirt. You wanted to play a lone hand.
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