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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. Suddenly, she heard the crunch of new feet on the gravel. "Why did I want it under my pillow?" he asked. ” “I don’t know. " "Won't you take me?" "No; you must await my return here.
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