Let me keep you from that man’s clutches. He fancied that the whole fabric of the bridge was cracking over head,—that the arch was tumbling upon him,—that the torrent was swelling around him, whirling him off, and about to bury him in the deafening abyss. She washed her face with unwonted elaboration before she went to bed. ” “Not in the least,” she assured him.
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