He sat in much the same attitude, and she stood just as she had stood when he told her she could not go to the Fadden Dance. . 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. ” “He only heard this afternoon,” Sydney continued. “Exactly.
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