It has been said, that the pier of each arch, or lock of Old London Bridge, was defended from the force of the tide by a huge projecting spur called a starling. This double buffetting had sharpened her shrewdness and insight. “Think of the mockery!” she said. Gosse cursed him finely, of course, but there was nothing he could do. I ought to have gone long ago. “Among other things, you know, I didn’t understand quite—I didn’t understand that you were so keenly interested in this suffrage question. “There is something to be said for the lady-like theory after all,” she admitted. An ancient smile lay on his lips. These starlings varied in width, according to the bulk of the pier they surrounded.
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