CHAPTER XV. 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. . “It spreads like wildfire. I want a walk. She thought study would be better. Her tone should have warned him, but he was too much in earnest to regard it.
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