“They don’t burn so brightly....”
“Freder, we’re losing time here—!”
Freder did not answer. He was staring at the tatters of the iron bridge which were dangling down into the ravine of the street. He must cross over, yes, he must cross over, to get to the cathedral by a short cut....
The frame-support of a ripped-open tower had fallen over from this side of the street to the other, gleaming metallically in the uncertain light of the fading night.
“Get out,” said Freder.
“Why?”
“Get out, I tell you....”
“I want to know why?”
“Because I’m going across there....”
“Across where?”