Every eye seemed focussed upon her; and yet she had known the sensation to be the conceit of her imagination. He drove it into her missionary style, and though he was worried about hurting her, he could not stop himself from thrusting into her deeply. 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. . You can pull it over on everybody else, Lucy, but not on me.
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