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. Then began expostulations, preluded by a telegram and headed by her aunt. The stags and oxen and things all have to fight for us, everywhere. ” She acted calm, but could not help being offended.
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