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 drew a chair to the side of the bed and sat down, terrified by the utter fallowness of his mind. Wood, glancing angrily at her husband.
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