She gazed steadily out of the window at that arc of glittering lights. 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. ” “Yes,” said Ann Veronica, “I agree to that. Through that she had to go. At one moment, it seemed as if the flying bark was about to put to shore.
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