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 had kissed his wife on the mouth … and had been horrified! There was real madness somewhere along this road. Besides, it was under false pretences. ‘How much does he know?’ Without waiting for a reply, she turned narrowed eyes on Gerald.
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