I sent my check for ten thousand; and it has cost me six thousand to find you. He wore a battered sunhelmet, a loin-cloth and a pair of dilapidated canvas shoes. 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. For freedom at least. He had no wish to drag the footman out of his way, once he had got his questions answered. An uncomfortable silence followed.
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