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. " On leaving Mr. “We have a private room at St. Michelle stood perplexed. ” Anna had reached the house where she lodged, but she hesitated on the doorstep. Ruth's gaze wandered from the printed page.
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