Anna’s face was half turned from him, but her expression, and the tone of her monosyllable puzzled him. "I'll find you out. 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. “I murdered them, John.
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