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. "To me?" gasped Winifred. The entrance was barred against them; and they had the additional mortification of hearing Sheppard's loud laughter at their discomfiture. “Well, I don’t want you to talk to him,” he said, very firmly. He left his companion in the midst of a glowing eulogy of Bastien Leparge, and boldly intercepted his hostess as she moved from one group to join another.
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