While the strife raged between the principals, the watermen in the larger wherry were occupied in stemming the force of the torrent, and endeavouring to keep the boats, they had lashed together, stationary. Her two sticks were bare and brown, her snugged canvas drab, her brasses dull, her anchor mottled with rust. As she drew off her skirt she felt something in the pocket, and remembered the letter which the commissionaire at the Carlton had given her. “And as for praying for faith—this sort of monologue is about as near as any one of my sort ever gets to prayer.
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