I'll knock off at tea. ” Lucy commented. She turned the television off. If it wasn’t for the fear that after all—but we won’t think of that. 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. The Chapel.
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