Then light footsteps became audible, descending the staircase with a certain deliberation and a faint rustle of skirts. “Fighting goes with loads of its own baggage, John. A man's laced hat,—whether adopted from the caprice of the moment, or habitually worn, we are unable to state,—cocked knowingly on her head, harmonized with her masculine appearance. He appeared to thunder dire happenings if she did not obey him without further ado. While the watermen were contending with the eddies occasioned by the fall below the bridge, Jonathan observed a perceptible shudder run through Trenchard's frame. And we’re going to fight that old world down there.
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