” He seemed to be elaborating ideas as he talked. "Poor Mrs. I owed his father a grudge: that I settled long ago. “No, don’t interrupt me. "You're on," said O'Higgins. " "Footsteps are approaching," cried Thames. 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.
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