She spoke with a certain odd deliberation carefully chosen words which fell like drops of ice upon the man who sat listening. 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. Never was heard such a bawling as these unfortunate wights kept up. I want a walk. The thought made her exquisitely happy.
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