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. "Intruding!" echoed Mrs. Vorsack echoed him. ‘I do not know your Gérard. ” He asked questions and listened to her views for a time. ’ ‘It cannot be helped now.
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