You seem to want this chap out of Canton. Annabel was conscious then of the slow anger which had been burning within her since the night of her visit to the “Unusual. I must leave England to-night. Jeez! It was about time. 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.
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