In my memory the lights upon the bridge are always burning dim, the cutting wind is eddying round the homeless woman whom we pass, the monotonous wheels are whirling on, and the light of the carriage-lamps reflected back looks palely in upon me--a face rising out of the dreaded water.

In my memory the lights upon the bridge are always burning dim, the cutting wind is eddying, the monotonous wheels are whirling on, and the light of the carriage-lamps reflected back looks palely in upon me like a face rising out of the dreaded water.
